The History of the Conquest of Mexico

William Hickling Prescott

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BOOK I: INTRODUCTION

View of the Aztec Civilisation

Chapter I

ANCIENT MEXICO— ITS CLIMATE AND ITS PRODUCTS— ITS PRIMITIVE RACES— AZTEC EMPIRE

THE country of the ancient Mexicans, or Aztecs as they were called, formed but a very small part of the extensive
territories comprehended in the modern republic of Mexico. Its boundaries cannot be defined with certainty. They were
much enlarged in the latter days of the empire, when they may be considered as reaching from about the eighteenth
degree north to the twenty-first on the Atlantic; and from the fourteenth to the nineteenth, including a very narrow
strip, on the Pacific. In its greatest breadth, it could not exceed five degrees and a half, dwindling, as it
approached its south-eastern limits, to less than two. It covered, probably, less than sixteen thousand square leagues.
Yet, such is the remarkable formation of this country, that though not more than twice as large as New England, it
presented every variety of climate, and was capable of yielding nearly every fruit found between the equator and. the
Arctic circle.

All along the Atlantic the country is bordered by a broad tract, called the tierra caliente, or hot region, which
has the usual high temperature of equinoctial lands. Parched and sandy plains are intermingled with others of exuberant
fertility, almost impervious from thickets of aromatic shrubs and wild flowers, in the midst of which tower up trees of
that magnificent growth which is found only within the tropics. In this wilderness of sweets lurks the fatal malaria,
engendered, probably, by the decomposition of rank vegetable substances in a hot and humid soil. The season of the
bilious fever — vomito, as it is called — which scourges these coasts, continues from the spring to the autumnal
equinox, when it is checked by the cold winds that descend from Hudson’s Bay. These winds in the winter season
frequently freshen into tempests, and, sweeping down the Atlantic coast and the winding Gulf of Mexico, burst with the
fury of a hurricane on its unprotected shores, and on the neighbouring West India islands. Such are the mighty spells
with which Nature has surrounded this land of enchantment, as if to guard the golden treasures locked up within its
bosom. The genius and enterprise of man have proved more potent than her spells.

After passing some twenty leagues across this burning region, the traveller finds himself rising into a purer
atmosphere. His limbs recover their elasticity. He breathes more freely, for his senses are not now oppressed by the
sultry heats and intoxicating perfumes of the valley. The aspect of nature, too, has changed, and his eye no longer
revels among the gay variety of colours with which the landscape was painted there. The vanilla, the indigo, and the
flowering cocoa-groves disappear as he advances. The sugar-cane and the glossy-leaved banana still accompany him; and,
when he has ascended about four thousand feet, he sees in the unchanging verdure, and the rich foliage of the
liquid-amber tree, that he has reached the height where clouds and mists settle, in their passage from the Mexican
Gulf. This is the region of perpetual humidity; but he welcomes it with pleasure, as announcing his escape from the
influence of the deadly vomito. He has entered the tierra templada, or temperate region, whose character resembles that
of the temperate zone of the globe. The features of the scenery become grand, and even terrible. His road sweeps along
the base of mighty mountains, once gleaming with volcanic fires, and still resplendent in their mantles of snow, which
serve as beacons to the mariner, for many a league at sea. All around he beholds traces of their ancient combustion, as
his road passes along vast tracts of lava, bristling in the innumerable fantastic forms into which the fiery torrent
has been thrown by the obstacles in its career. Perhaps, at the same moment, as he casts his eye down some steep slope,
or almost unfathomable ravine, on the margin of the road, he sees their depths glowing with the rich blooms and
enamelled vegetation of the tropics. Such are the singular contrasts presented, at the same time, to the senses, in
this picturesque region!

Still pressing upwards, the traveller mounts into other climates favourable to other kinds of cultivation. The
yellow maize, or Indian corn, as we usually call it, has continued to follow him up from the lowest level; but he now
first sees fields of wheat, and the other European grains, brought into the country by the conquerors. Mingled with
them he views the plantations of the aloe or maguey (agave Americana), applied to such various and important uses by
the Aztecs. The oaks now acquire a sturdier growth, and the dark forests of pine announce that he has entered the
tierra fria, or cold region, the third and last of the great natural terraces into which the country is divided. When
he has climbed to the height of between seven and eight thousand feet, the weary traveller sets his foot on the summit
of the Cordillera of the Andes — the colossal range that, after traversing South America and the Isthmus of Darien,
spreads out, as it enters Mexico, into that vast sheet of tableland which maintains an elevation of more than six
thousand feet, for the distance of nearly two hundred leagues, until it gradually declines in the higher latitudes of
the north.

Across this mountain rampart a chain of volcanic hills stretches, in a westerly direction, of still more stupendous
dimensions, forming, indeed, some of the highest land on the globe. Their peaks, entering the limits of perpetual snow,
diffuse a grateful coolness over the elevated plateaus below; for these last, though termed “cold,” enjoy a climate,
the mean temperature of which is not lower than that of the central parts of Italy. The air is exceedingly dry; the
soil, though naturally good, is rarely clothed with the luxuriant vegetation of the lower regions. It frequently,
indeed, has a parched and barren aspect, owing partly to the greater evaporation which takes place on these lofty
plains, through the diminished pressure of the atmosphere; and partly, no doubt, to the want of trees to shelter the
soil from the fierce influence of the summer sun. In the time of the Aztecs, the tableland was thickly covered with
larch, oak, cypress, and other forest trees, the extraordinary dimensions of some of which, remaining to the present
day, show that the curse of barrenness in later times is chargeable more on man than on nature. Indeed the early
Spaniards made as indiscriminate war on the forests as did our Puritan ancestors, though with much less reason. After
once conquering the country, they had no lurking ambush to fear from the submissive semi-civilised Indian, and were
not, like our forefathers, obliged to keep watch and ward for a century. This spoliation of the ground, however, is
said to have been pleasing to their imaginations, as it reminded them of the plains of their own Castile — the
tableland of Europe; where the nakedness of the landscape forms the burden of every traveller’s lament, who visits that
country.

Midway across the continent, somewhat nearer the Pacific than the Atlantic ocean, at an elevation of nearly seven
thousand five hundred feet, is the celebrated Valley of Mexico. It is of an oval form, about sixty-seven leagues in
circumference, and is encompassed by a towering rampart of porphyritic rock, which nature seems to have provided,
though ineffectually, to protect it from invasion.

The soil, once carpeted with a beautiful verdure and thickly sprinkled with stately trees, is often bare, and, in
many places, white with the incrustation of salts, caused by the draining of the waters. Five lakes are spread over the
Valley, occupying one tenth of its surface. On the opposite borders of the largest of these basins, much shrunk in its
dimensions since the days of the Aztecs, stood the cities of Mexico and Tezcuco, the capitals of the two most potent
and flourishing states of Anahuac, whose history, with that of the mysterious races that preceded them in the country,
exhibits some of the nearest approaches to civilisation to be met with anciently on the North American continent.

Of these races the most conspicuous were the Toltecs. Advancing from a northerly direction, but from what region is
uncertain, they entered the territory of Anahuac, probably before the close of the seventh century. Of course, little
can be gleaned, with certainty, respecting a people whose written records have perished, and who are known to us only
through the traditionary legends of the nations that succeeded them. By the general agreement of these, however, the
Toltecs were well instructed in agriculture, and many of the most useful mechanic arts; were nice workers of metals;
invented the complex arrangement of time adopted by the Aztecs; and, in short, were the true fountains of the
civilisation which distinguished this part of the continent in later times. They established their capital at Tula,
north of the Mexican Valley, and the remains of extensive buildings were to be discerned there at the time of the
Conquest. The noble ruins of religious and other edifices, still to be seen in various parts of New Spain, are referred
to this people, whose name, Toltec, has passed into a synonym for architect. Their shadowy history reminds us of those
primitive races, who preceded the ancient Egyptians in the march of civilisation; fragments of whose monuments, as they
are seen at this day, incorporated with the buildings of the Egyptians themselves, give to these latter the appearance
of almost modern constructions.

After a period of four centuries, the Toltecs, who had extended their sway over the remotest borders of Anahuac,
having been greatly reduced, it is said, by famine, pestilence, and unsuccessful wars, disappeared from the land as
silently and mysteriously as they had entered it. A few of them still lingered behind, but much the greater number,
probably, spread over the region of Central America and the neighbouring isles; and the traveller now speculates on the
majestic ruins of Mitla and Palenque as possibly the work of this extraordinary people.

After the lapse of another hundred years, a numerous and rude tribe, called the Chichemecs, entered the deserted
country from the regions of the far North-west. They were speedily followed by other races, of higher civilisation,
perhaps of the same family with the Toltecs, whose language they appear to have spoken. The most noted of these were
the Aztecs, or Mexicans, and the Acolhuans. The latter, better known in later times by the name of Tezcucans, from
their capital, Tezcuco, on the eastern border of the Mexican lake, were peculiarly fitted, by their comparatively mild
religion and manners, for receiving the tincture of civilisation which could be derived from the few Toltecs that still
remained in the country. This, in their turn, they communicated to the barbarous Chichemees, a large portion of whom
became amalgamated with the new settlers as one nation.

Availing themselves of the strength derived, not only from the increase of numbers, but from their own superior
refinement, the Acolhuans gradually stretched their empire over the ruder tribes in the north; while their capital was
filled with a numerous population, busily employed in many of the more useful and even elegant arts of a civilised
community. In this palmy state, they were suddenly assaulted by a warlike neighbour, the Tepanecs, their own kindred,
and inhabitants of the same valley as themselves. Their provinces were overrun, their armies beaten, their king
assassinated, and the flourishing city of Tezcuco became the prize of the victor. From this abject condition the
uncommon abilities of the young prince Nezahualcoyotl, the rightful heir to the crown, backed by the efficient aid of
his Mexican allies, at length redeemed the state, and opened to it a new career of prosperity, even more brilliant than
the former.

The Mexicans, with whom our history is principally concerned, came also, as we have seen, from the remote regions of
the north — the populous hive of nations in the New World, as it has been in the Old. They arrived on the borders of
Anahuac towards the beginning of the thirteenth century, some time after the occupation of the land by the kindred
races. For a long time they did not establish themselves in any permanent residence; but continued shifting their
quarters to different parts of the Mexican Valley, enduring all the casualties and hardships of a migratory life. On
one occasion, they were enslaved by a more powerful tribe; but their ferocity soon made them formidable to their
masters. After a series of wanderings and adventures, which need not shrink from comparison with the most extravagant
legends of the heroic ages of antiquity, they at length halted on the south-western borders of the principal lake, in
the year 1325. They there beheld, perched on the stem of a prickly pear, which shot out from the crevice of a rock that
was washed by the waves, a royal eagle of extraordinary size and beauty, with a serpent in his talons, and his broad
wings open to the rising sun. They hailed the auspicious omen, announced by an oracle as indicating the site of their
future city, and laid its foundations by sinking piles into the shallows; for the low marshes were half buried under
water. On these they erected their light fabrics of reeds and rushes; and sought a precarious subsistence from fishing,
and from the wild fowl which frequented the waters, as well as from the cultivation of such simple vegetables as they
could raise on their floating gardens. The place was called Tenochtitlan, though only known to Europeans by its other
name of Mexico, derived from their war-god, Mexitli. The legend of its foundation is still further commemorated by the
device of the eagle and the cactus, which form the arms of the modern Mexican republic. Such were the humble beginnings
of the Venice of the Western World.

The forlorn condition of the new settlers was made still worse by domestic feuds. A part of the citizens seceded
from the main body, and formed a separate community on the neighbouring marshes. Thus divided, it was long before they
could aspire to the acquisition of territory on the main land. They gradually increased, however, in numbers, and
strengthened themselves yet more by various improvements in their polity and military discipline, while they
established a reputation for courage as well as cruelty in war, which made their name terrible throughout the Valley.
In the early part of the fifteenth century, nearly a hundred years from the foundation of the city, an event took place
which created an entire revolution in the circumstances, and, to some extent, in the character of the Aztecs. This was
the subversion of the Tezcucan monarchy by the Tepanecs, already noticed. When the oppressive conduct of the victors
had at length aroused a spirit of resistance, its prince, Nezahualcoyotl, succeeded, after incredible perils and
escapes, in mustering such a force, as, with the aid of the Mexicans, placed him on a level with his enemies. In two
successive battles these were defeated with great slaughter, their chief slain, and their territory, by one of those
sudden reverses which characterise the wars of petty states, passed into the hands of the conquerors. It was awarded to
Mexico, in return for its important services.

Then was formed that remarkable league, which, indeed, has no parallel in history. It was agreed between the states
of Mexico, Tezcuco, and the neighbouring little kingdom of Tlacopan, that they should mutually support each other in
their wars, offensive and defensive, and that, in the distribution of the spoil, one fifth should be assigned to
Tlacopan, and the remainder be divided, in what proportions is uncertain, between the other powers. The Tezcucan
writers claim an equal share for their nation with the Aztecs. But this does not seem to be warranted by the immense
increase of territory subsequently appropriated by the latter. And we may account for any advantage conceded to them by
the treaty, on the supposition, that however inferior they may have been originally, they were, at the time of making
it, in a more prosperous condition than their allies, broken and dispirited by long oppression. What is more
extraordinary than the treaty itself, however, is the fidelity with which it was maintained. During a century of
uninterrupted warfare that ensued, no instance occurred where the parties quarrelled over the division of the spoil,
which so often makes shipwreck of similar confederacies among civilised states.

The allies for some time found sufficient occupation for their arms in their own valley; but they soon overleaped
its rocky ramparts, and by the middle of the fifteenth century, under the first Montezuma, had spread down the sides of
the tableland to the borders of the Gulf of Mexico. Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital, gave evidence of the public
prosperity. Its frail tenements were supplanted by solid structures of stone and lime. Its population rapidly
increased. Its old feuds were healed. The citizens who had seceded were again brought under a common government with
the body, and the quarter they occupied was permanently connected with the parent city; the dimensions of which,
covering the same ground, were much larger than those of the modern capital.

Fortunately, the throne was filled by a succession of able princes, who knew how to profit by their enlarged
resources and by the martial enthusiasm of the nation. Year after year saw them return, loaded with the spoils of
conquered cities, and with throngs of devoted captives, to their capital. No state was able long to resist the
accumulated strength of the confederates. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, just before the arrival of the
Spaniard, the Aztec dominion reached across the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific; and, under the bold and
bloody Ahuitzotl, its arms had been carried far over the limits already noticed as defining its permanent territory,
into the farthest corners of Guatemala and Nicaragua. This extent of empire, however limited in comparison with that of
many other states, is truly wonderful, considering it as the acquisition of a people whose whole population and
resources had so recently been comprised within the walls of their own petty city; and considering, moreover, that the
conquered territory was thickly settled by various races, bred to arms like the Mexicans, and little inferior to them
in social organisation. The history of the Aztecs suggests some strong points of resemblance to that of the ancient
Romans, not only in their military successes, but in the policy which led to them.

Chapter II

SUCCESSION TO THE CROWN— AZTEC NOBILITY— JUDICIAL SYSTEM— LAWS AND REVENUES— MILITARY
INSTITUTIONS

THE form of government differed in the different states of Anahuac. With the Aztecs and Tezcucans it was monarchical
and nearly absolute. I shall direct my inquiries to the Mexican polity, borrowing an illustration occasionally from
that of the rival kingdom.

The government was an elective monarchy. Four of the principal nobles, who had been chosen by their own body in the
preceding reign, filled the office of electors, to whom were added, with merely an honorary rank, however, the two
royal allies of Tezcuco and Tlacopan. The sovereign was selected from the brothers of the deceased prince, or, in
default of them, from his nephews. Thus the election was always restricted to the same family. The candidate preferred
must have distinguished himself in war, though, as in the case of the last Montezuma, he were a member of the
priesthood. This singular mode of supplying the throne had some advantages. The candidates received an education which
fitted them for the royal dignity, while the age at which they were chosen not only secured the nation against the
evils of minority, but afforded ample means for estimating their qualifications for the office. The result, at all
events, was favourable; since the throne, as already noticed, was filled by a succession of able princes, well
qualified to rule over a warlike and ambitious people. The scheme of election, however defective, argues a more refined
and calculating policy than was to have been expected from a barbarous nation.

The new monarch was installed in his regal dignity with much parade of religious ceremony; but not until, by a
victorious campaign, he had obtained a sufficient number of captives to grace his triumphal entry into the capital, and
to furnish victims for the dark and bloody rites which stained the Aztec superstition. Amidst this pomp of human
sacrifice he was crowned. The crown, resembling a mitre in its form, and curiously ornamented with gold, gems, and
feathers, was placed on his head by the lord of Tezcuco, the most powerful of his royal allies. The title of King, by
which the earlier Aztec princes are distinguished by Spanish writers, is supplanted by that of Emperor in the later
reigns, intimating, perhaps, his superiority over the monarchies of Tlacopan and Tezcuco.

The Aztec princes, especially towards the close of the dynasty, lived in a barbaric pomp, truly Oriental. Their
spacious palaces were provided with halls for the different councils, who aided the monarch in the transaction of
business. The chief of these was a sort of privy council, composed in part, probably, of the four electors chosen by
the nobles after the accession, whose places, when made vacant by death, were immediately supplied as before. It was
the business of this body, so far as can be gathered from the very loose accounts given of it, to advise the king in
respect to the government of the provinces, the administration of the revenues, and, indeed, on all great matters of
public interest.

In the royal buildings were accommodations, also, for a numerous body-guard of the sovereign, made up of the chief
nobility. It is not easy to determine with precision, in these barbarian governments, the limits of the several orders.
It is certain there was a distinct class of nobles, with large landed possessions, who held the most important offices
near the person of the prince, and engrossed the administration of the provinces and cities. Many of these could trace
their descent from the founders of the Aztec monarchy. According to some writers of authority, there were thirty great
caciques, who had their residence, at least a part of the year, in the capital, and who could muster a hundred thousand
vassals each on their estates. Without relying on such wild statements, it is clear, from the testimony of the
conquerors, that the country was occupied by numerous powerful chieftains, who lived like independent princes on their
domains. It it be true that the kings encouraged, or indeed exacted, the residence of these nobles in the capital, and
required hostages in their absence, it is evident that their power must have been very formidable.

Their estates appear to have been held by various tenures, and to have been subject to different restrictions. Some
of them, earned by their own good swords or received as the recompense of public services, were held without any
limitation, except that the possessors could not dispose of them to a plebeian. Others were entailed on the eldest male
issue, and, in default of such, reverted to the crown. Most of them seem to have been burdened with the obligation of
military service. The principal chiefs of Tezcuco, according to its chronicler, were expressly obliged to support their
prince with their armed vassals, to attend his court, and aid him in the counsel. Some, instead of these services, were
to provide for the repairs of his buildings, and to keep the royal demesnes in order, with an annual offering, by way
of homage, of fruits and flowers. It was usual for a new king, on his accession, to confirm the investiture of estates
derived from the crown.

It cannot be denied that we recognise in all this several features of the feudal system, which, no doubt, lose
nothing of their effect, under the hands of the Spanish writers, who are fond of tracing analogies to European
institutions. But such analogies lead sometimes to very erroneous conclusions. The obligation of military service, for
instance, the most essential principle of a fief, seems to be naturally demanded by every government from its subjects.
As to minor points of resemblance, they fall far short of that harmonious system of reciprocal service and protection
which embraced, in nice gradation, every order of a feudal monarchy. The kingdoms of Anahuac were, in their nature,
despotic, attended, indeed, with many mitigating circumstances unknown to the despotisms of the East; but it is
chimerical to look for much in common — beyond a few accidental forms and ceremonies — with those aristocratic
institutions of the Middle Ages, which made the court of every petty baron the precise image in miniature of that of
his sovereign.

The legislative power, both in Mexico and Tezcuco, resided wholly with the monarch. This feature of despotism,
however, was in some measure counteracted by the constitution of the judicial tribunals — of more importance, among a
rude people, than the legislative, since it is easier to make good laws for such a community than to enforce them, and
the best laws, badly administered, are but a mockery. Over each of the principal cities, with its dependent
territories, was placed a supreme judge, appointed by the crown, with original and final jurisdiction in both civil and
criminal cases. There was no appeal from his sentence to any other tribunal, nor even to the king. He held his office
during life; and any one who usurped his ensigns was punished with death.

Below this magistrate was a court, established in each province, and consisting of three members. It held concurrent
jurisdiction with the supreme judge in civil suits, but in criminal an appeal lay to his tribunal. Besides these
courts, there was a body of inferior magistrates distributed through the country, chosen by the people themselves in
their several districts. Their authority was limited to smaller causes, while the more important were carried up to the
higher courts. There was still another class of subordinate officers, appointed also by the people, each of whom was to
watch over the conduct of a certain number of families, and report any disorder or breach of the laws to the higher
authorities.

In Tezcuco the judicial arrangements were of a more refined character; and a gradation of tribunals finally
terminated in a general meeting or parliament, consisting of all the judges, great and petty, throughout the kingdom,
held every eighty days in the capital, over which the king presided in person. This body determined all suits, which,
from their importance, or difficulty, had been reserved for its consideration by the lower tribunals. It served,
moreover, as a council of state, to assist the monarch in the transaction of public business.

Such are the vague and imperfect notices that can be gleaned respecting the Aztec tribunals, from the hieroglyphical
paintings still preserved, and from the most accredited Spanish writers. These, being usually ecclesiastics, have taken
much less interest in this subject than in matters connected with religion. They find some apology, certainly, in the
early destruction of most of the Indian paintings, from which their information was, in part, to be gathered.

On the whole, however, it must be inferred, that the Aztecs were sufficiently civilised to envince a solicitude for
the rights both of property and of persons. The law, authorising an appeal to the highest judicature in criminal
matters only, shows an attention to personal security, rendered the more obligatory by the extreme severity of their
penal code, which would naturally have made them more cautious of a wrong conviction. The existence of a number of
co-ordinate tribunals, without a central one of supreme authority to control the whole, must have given rise to very
discordant interpretations of the law in different districts, an evil which they shared in common with most of the
nations of Europe.

The provision for making the superior judges wholly independent of the crown was worthy of an enlightened people. It
presented the strongest barrier, that a mere constitution could afford, against tyranny. It is not, indeed, to be
supposed that, in a government otherwise so despotic, means could not be found for influencing the magistrate. But it
was a great step to fence round his authority with the sanction of the law; and no one of the Aztec monarch, as far as
I know, is accused of an attempt to violate it.

To receive presents or a bribe, to be guilty of collusion in any way with a suitor, was punished, in a judge, with
death. Who, or what tribunal, decided as to his guilt, does not appear. In Tezcuco this was done by the rest of the
court. But the king presided over that body. The Tezcucan prince, Nezahualpilli, who rarely tempered justice with
mercy, put one judge to death for taking a bribe, and another for determining suits in his own house — a capital
offence, also, by law.

The judges of the higher tribunals were maintained from the produce of a part of the crown lands, reserved for this
purpose. They, as well as the supreme judge, held their offices for life. The proceedings in the courts were conducted
with decency and order. The judges wore an appropriate dress, and attended to business both parts of the day, dining
always, for the sake of despatch, in an apartment of the same building where they held their session; a method of
proceeding much commended by the Spanish chroniclers, to whom despatch was not very familiar in their own tribunals.
Officers attended to preserve order, and others summoned the parties, and produced them in court. No counsel was
employed; the parties stated their own case, and supported it by their witnesses. The oath of the accused was also
admitted in evidence. The statement of the case, the testimony, and the proceedings of the trial, were all set forth by
a clerk, in hieroglyphical paintings, and handed over to the court. The paintings were executed with so much accuracy,
that, in all suits respecting real property, they were allowed to be produced as good authority in the Spanish
tribunals, very long after the Conquest.

A capital sentence was indicated by a line traced with an arrow across the portrait of the accused. In Tezcuco,
where the king presided in the court, this, according to the national chronicler, was done with extraordinary parade.
His description, which is of rather a poetical cast, I give in his own words: “In the royal palace of Tezcuco was a
courtyard, on the opposite sides of which were two halls of justice. In the principal one, called the ‘tribunal of
God,’ was a throne of pure gold inlaid with turquoises and other precious stones. On a stool in front, was placed a
human skull, crowned with an immense emerald, of a pyramidal form, and surmounted by an aigrette of brilliant plumes
and precious stones. The skull was laid on a heap of military weapons, shields, quivers, bows, and arrows. The walls
were hung with tapestry, made of the hair of different wild animals, of rich and various colours, festooned by gold
rings, and embroidered with figures of birds and flowers. Above the throne was a canopy of variegated plumage, from the
centre of which shot forth resplendent rays of gold and jewels. The other tribunal, called ‘the king’s,’ was also
surmounted by a gorgeous canopy of feathers, on which were emblazoned the royal arms. Here the sovereign gave public
audience, and communicated his despatches. But, when he decided important causes, or confirmed a capital sentence, he
passed to ‘the tribunal of God,’ attended by the fourteen great lords of the realm, marshalled according to their rank.
Then, putting on his mitred crown, incrusted with precious stones, and holding a golden arrow, by way of sceptre, in
his left hand, he laid his right upon the skull, and pronounced judgment.” All this looks rather fine for a court of
justice, it must be owned. But it is certain, that the Tezcucans, as we shall see hereafter, possessed both the
materials and the skill requisite to work them up in this manner. Had they been a little further advanced in
refinement, one might well doubt their having the bad taste to do so.

The laws of the Aztecs were registered, and exhibited to the people in their hieroglyphical paintings. Much the
larger part of them, as in every nation imperfectly civilised, relates rather to the security of persons than of
property. The great crimes against society were all made capital. Even the murder of a slave was punished with death.
Adulterers, as among the Jews, were stoned to death. Thieving, according to the degree of the offence, was punished by
slavery or death. Yet the Mexicans could have been under no great apprehension of this crime, since the entrances to
their dwellings were not secured by bolts, or fastenings of any kind. It was a capital offence to remove the boundaries
of another’s lands; to alter the established measures; and for a guardian not to be able to give a good account of his
ward’s property. These regulations evince a regard for equity in dealings, and for private rights, which argues a
considerable progress in civilisation. Prodigals, who squandered their patrimony, were punished in like manner; a
severe sentence, since the crime brought its adequate punishment along with it. Intemperance, which was the burden,
moreover, of their religious homilies, was visited with the severest penalties; as if they had foreseen in it the
consuming canker of their own, as well as of the other Indian races in later times. It was punished in the young with
death, and in older persons with loss of rank and confiscation of property. Yet a decent conviviality was not meant to
be proscribed at their festivals, and they possessed the means of indulging it, in a mild fermented liquor, called
pulque.

The rites of marriage were celebrated with as much formality as in any Christian country; and the institution was
held in such reverence, that a tribunal was instituted for the sole purpose of determining questions relating to it.
Divorces could not be obtained, until authorised by a sentence of this court, after a patient hearing of the
parties.

But the most remarkable part of the Aztec code was that relating to slavery. There were several descriptions of
slaves: prisoners taken in war, who were almost always reserved for the dreadful doom of sacrifice; criminals, public
debtors, persons who, from extreme poverty, voluntarily resigned their freedom, and children who were sold by their own
parents. In the last instance, usually occasioned also by poverty, it was common for the parents, with the master’s
consent, to substitute others of their children successively, as they grew up: thus distributing the burden, as equally
as possible, among the different members of the family. The willingness of freemen to incur the penalties of this
condition is explained by the mild form in which it existed. The contract of sale was executed in the presence of at
least four witnesses. The services to be exacted were limited with great precision. The slave was allowed to have his
own family, to hold property, and even other slaves. His children were free. No one could be born to slavery in Mexico,
an honourable distinction, not known, I believe, in any civilised community where slavery has been sanctioned. Slaves
were not sold by their masters, unless when these were driven to it by poverty. They were often liberated by them at
their death, and sometimes, as there was no natural repugnance founded on difference of blood and race, were married to
them. Yet a refractory or vicious slave might be led into the market, with a collar round his neck, which intimated his
bad character, and there be publicly sold, and, on a second sale, reserved for sacrifice.

The royal revenues were derived from various sources. The crown lands, which appear to have been extensive, made
their returns in kind. The places in the neighbourhood of the capital were bound to supply workmen and materials for
building the king’s palaces, and keeping them in repair. They were also to furnish fuel, provisions, and whatever was
necessary for his ordinary domestic expenditure, which was certainly on no stinted scale. The principal cities, which
had numerous villages and a large territory dependent on them, were distributed into districts, with each a share of
the lands allotted to it, for its support. The inhabitants paid a stipulated part of the produce to the crown. The
vassals of the great chiefs, also, paid a portion of their earnings into the public treasury; an arrangement not at all
in the spirit of the feudal institutions.

In addition to this tax on all the agricultural produce of the kingdom, there was another on its manufactures. The
nature and the variety of the tributes will be best shown by an enumeration of some of the principal articles. These
were cotton dresses, and mantles of feather-work, exquisitely made; ornamented armour; vases and plates of gold;
gold-dust, bands and bracelets; crystal, gilt, and varnished jars and goblets; bells, arms, and utensils of copper;
reams of paper; grain, fruits, copal, amber, cochineal, cocoa, wild animals and birds, timber, lime, mats, etc. In this
curious medley of the most homely commodities, and the elegant superfluities of luxury, it is singular that no mention
should be made of silver, the great staple of the country in later times, and the use of which was certainly known to
the Aztecs.

Garrisons were established in the larger cities — probably those at a distance, and recently conquered — to keep
down revolt, and to enforce the payment of the tribute. Tax-gatherers were also distributed throughout the kingdom, who
were recognised by their official badges, and dreaded from the merciless rigour of their exactions. By a stern law,
every defaulter was liable to be taken and sold as a slave. In the capital were spacious granaries and warehouses for
the reception of the tributes. A receiver-general was quartered in the palace, who rendered in an exact account of the
various contributions, and watched over the conduct of the inferior agents, in whom the least malversation was
summarily punished. This functionary was furnished with a map of the whole empire, with a minute specification of the
imposts assessed on every part of it. These imposts, moderate under the reigns of the early princes, became so
burdensome under those of the close of the dynasty, being rendered still more oppressive by the manner of collection,
that they bred disaffection throughout the land, and prepared the way for its conquest by the Spaniards.

Communication was maintained with the remotest parts of the country by means of couriers. Post-houses were
established on the great roads, about two leagues distant from each other. The courier, bearing his despatches in the
form of a hieroglyphical painting, ran with them to the first station, where they were taken by another messenger, and
carried forward to the next, and so on till they reached the capital. These couriers, trained from childhood, travelled
with incredible swiftness; not four or five leagues an hour, as an old chronicler would make us believe, but with such
speed that despatches were carried from one to two hundred miles a day. Fresh fish was frequently served at Montezuma’s
table in twenty-four hours from the time it had been taken in the Gulf of Mexico, two hundred miles from the capital.
In this way intelligence of the movements of the royal armies was rapidly brought to court; and the dress of the
courier, denoting by its colour that of his tidings, spread joy or consternation in the towns through which he
passed.

But the great aim of the Aztec institutions to which private discipline and public honours were alike directed, was
the profession of arms. In Mexico, as in Egypt, the soldier shared with the priest the highest consideration. The king,
as we have seen, must be an experienced warrior. The tutelary deity of the Aztecs was the god of war. A great object of
their military expeditions was, to gather hecatombs of captives for his altars. The soldier, who fell in battle, was
transported at once to the region of ineffable bliss in the bright mansions of the Sun. Every war, therefore, became a
crusade; and the warrior, animated by a religious enthusiasm, like that of the early Saracen, or the Christian
crusader, was not only raised to a contempt of danger, but courted it, for the imperishable crown of martyrdom. Thus we
find the same impulse acting in the most opposite quarters of the globe, and the Asiatic, the European, and the
American, each earnestly invoking the holy name of religion in the perpetration of human butchery.

The question of war was discussed in a council of the king and his chief nobles. Ambassadors were sent, previously
to its declaration, to require the hostile state to receive the Mexican gods, and to pay the customary tribute. The
persons of ambassadors were held sacred throughout Anahuac. They were lodged and entertained in the great towns at the
public charge, and were everywhere received with courtesy, so long as they did not deviate from the high-roads on their
route. When they did, they forfeited their privileges. If the embassy proved unsuccessful, a defiance, or open
declaration of war, was sent; quotas were drawn from the conquered provinces, which Were always subjected to military
service, as well as the payment of taxes; and the royal army, usually with the monarch at its head, began its
march.

The Aztec princes made use of the incentive employed by European monarchs to excite the ambition of their followers.
They established various military orders, each having its privileges and peculiar insignia. There seems, also, to have
existed a sort of knighthood, of inferior degree. It was the cheapest reward of martial prowess, and whoever had not
reached it was excluded from using ornaments on his arms or his person, and obliged to wear a coarse white stuff, made
from the threads of the aloe, called nequen. Even the members of the royal family were not excepted from this law,
which reminds one of the occasional practice of Christian knights, to wear plain armour, or shields without device,
till they had achieved some doughty feat of chivalry. Although the military orders were thrown open to all, it is
probable that they were chiefly filled with persons of rank, who, by their previous training and connections, were able
to come into the field under peculiar advantages.

The dress of the higher warriors was picturesque, and often magnificent. Their bodies were covered with a close vest
of quilted cotton, so thick as to be impenetrable to the light missiles of Indian warfare. This garment was so light
and serviceable that it was adopted by the Spaniards. The wealthier chiefs sometimes wore, instead of this cotton mail,
a cuirass made of thin plates of gold, or silver. Over it was thrown a surcoat of the gorgeous feather-work in which
they excelled. Their helmets were sometimes of wood, fashioned like the heads of wild animals, and sometimes of silver,
on the top of which waved a panache of variegated feathers, sprinkled with precious stones and ornaments of gold. They
wore also collars, bracelets, and earrings, of the same rich materials.

Their armies were divided into bodies of eight thousand men; and these, again, into companies of three or four
hundred, each with its own commander. The national standard, which has been compared to the ancient Roman, displayed,
in its embroidery of gold and feather-work, the armorial ensigns of the state. These were significant of its name,
which, as the names of both persons and places were borrowed from some material object, was easily expressed by
hieroglyphical symbols. The companies and the great chiefs had also their appropriate banners and devices, and the
gaudy hues of their many-coloured plumes gave a dazzling splendour to the spectacle.

Their tactics were such as belong to a nation with whom war, though a trade, is not elevated to the rank of a
science. They advanced singing, and shouting their war-cries, briskly charging the enemy, as rapidly retreating, and
making use of ambuscades, sudden surprises, and the light skirmish of guerilla warfare. Yet their discipline was such
as to draw forth the encomiums of the Spanish conquerors. “A beautiful sight it was,” says one of them, “to see them
set out on their march, all moving forward so gaily, and in so admirable order!” In battle, they did not seek to kill
their enemies, so much as to take them prisoners; and they never scalped, like other North American tribes. The valour
of a warrior was estimated by the number of his prisoners; and no ransom was large enough to save the devoted
captive.

Their military code bore the same stern features as their other laws. Disobedience of orders was punished with
death. It was death, also, for a soldier to leave his colours to attack the enemy before the signal was given, or to
plunder another’s booty or prisoners. One of the last Tezcucan princes, in the spirit of an ancient Roman, put two sons
to death — after having cured their wounds — for violating the last-mentioned law.

I must not omit to notice here an institution, the introduction of which, in the Old World, is ranked among the
beneficent fruits of Christianity. Hospitals were established in the principal cities for the cure of the sick, and the
permanent refuge of the disabled soldier; and surgeons were placed over them, “who were so far better than those in
Europe,” says an old chronicler, “that they did not protract the cure, in order to increase the pay.”

Such is the brief outline of the civil and military polity of the ancient Mexicans; less perfect than could be
desired, in regard to the former, from the imperfection of the sources whence it is drawn. Whoever has had occasion to
explore the early history of modern Europe has found how vague and unsatisfactory is the political information which
can be gleaned from the gossip of monkish annalists. How much is the difficulty increased in the present instance,
where this information, first recorded in the dubious language of hieroglyphics, was interpreted in another language,
with which the Spanish chroniclers were imperfectly acquainted, while it related to institutions of which their past
experience enabled them to form no adequate conception! Amidst such uncertain lights, it is in vain to expect nice
accuracy of detail. All that can be done is, to attempt an outline of the more prominent features, that a correct
impression, so far as it goes, may be produced on the mind of the reader.

Enough has been said, however, to show that the Aztec and Tezcucan races were advanced in civilisation very far
beyond the wandering tribes of North America. The degree of civilisation which they had reached, as inferred by their
political institutions, may be considered, perhaps, not much short of that enjoyed by our Saxon ancestors, under
Alfred. In respect to the nature of it, they may be better compared with the Egyptians; and the examination of their
social relations and culture may suggest still stronger points of resemblance to that ancient people.

Chapter III

THE CIVIL polity of the Aztecs is so closely blended with their religion, that, without understanding the latter, it
is impossible to form correct ideas of their government or their social institutions. I shall pass over, for the
present, some remarkable traditions, bearing a singular resemblance to those found in the Scriptures, and endeavour to
give a brief sketch of their mythology, and their careful provisions for maintaining a national worship.

In contemplating the religious system of the Aztecs, one is struck with its apparent incongruity, as if some portion
of it had emanated from a comparatively refined people, open to gentle influences, while the rest breathes a spirit of
unmitigated ferocity. It naturally suggests the idea of two distinct sources, and authorises the belief that the Aztecs
had inherited from their predecessors a milder faith, on which was afterwards engrafted their own mythology. The latter
soon became dominant, and gave its dark colouring to the creeds of the conquered nations — which the Mexicans, like the
ancient Romans, seem willingly to have incorporated into their own — until the same funereal superstition settled over
the farthest borders of Anahuac.

The Aztecs recognised the existence of a supreme Creator and Lord of the universe. They addressed him, in their
prayers, as “the God by whom we live,” “omnipresent, that knoweth all thoughts, and giveth all gifts,” “without whom
man is as nothing,” “invisible, incorporeal, one God, of perfect perfection and purity,” “under whose wings we find
repose and a sure defence.” These sublime attributes infer no inadequate conception of the true God. But the idea of
unity — of a being, with whom volition is action, who has no need of inferior ministers to execute his purposes — was
too simple, or too vast, for their understandings; and they sought relief, as usual, in the plurality of deities, who
presided over the elements, the changes of the seasons, and the various occupations of man. Of these, there were
thirteen principal deities, and more than two hundred inferior; to each of whom some special day, or appropriate
festival, was consecrated.

At the head of all stood the terrible Huitzilopochtli, the Mexican Mars; although it is doing injustice to the
heroic war-god of antiquity to identify him with this sanguinary monster. This was the patron deity of the nation. His
fantastic image was loaded with costly ornaments. His temples were the most stately and august of the public edifices;
and his altars reeked with the blood of human hecatombs in every city of the empire. Disastrous, indeed, must have been
the influence of such a superstition on the character of the people.

A far more interesting personage in their mythology, was Quetzalcoatl, god of the air, a divinity who, during his
residence on earth, instructed the natives in the use of metals, in agriculture, and in the arts of government. He was
one of those benefactors of their species, doubtless, who have been deified, by the gratitude of posterity. Under him,
the earth teemed with fruits and flowers, without the pains of culture. An ear of Indian corn was as much as a single
man could carry. The cotton, as it grew, took, of its own accord, the rich dyes of human art. The air was filled with
intoxicating perfumes and the sweet melody of birds. In short, these were the halcyon days, which find a place in the
mythic systems of so many nations in the Old World. It was the golden age of Anahuac.

From some cause, not explained, Quetzalcoatl incurred the wrath of one of the principal gods, and was compelled to
abandon the country. On his way, he stopped at the city of Cholula, where a temple was dedicated to his worship, the
massy ruins of which still form one of the most interesting relics of antiquity in Mexico. When he reached the shores
of the Mexican Gulf, he took leave of his followers, promising that he and his descendants would revist them hereafter,
and then entering his wizard skill, made of serpents’ skins, embarked on the great ocean for the fabled land of
Tlapallan. He was said to have been tall in stature, with a white skin, long, dark hair, and a flowing beard. The
Mexicans looked confidently to the return of the benevolent deity; and this remarkable tradition, deeply cherished in
their hearts, prepared the way, as we shall see hereafter, for the future success of the Spaniards.

We have not space for further details respecting the Mexican divinities, the attributes of many of whom were
carefully defined, as they descended in regular gradation, to the penates or household gods, whose little images were
to be found in the humblest dwelling.

The Aztecs felt the curiosity, common to man in almost every stage of civilisation, to lift the veil which covers
the mysterious past, and the more awful future. They sought relief, like the nations of the Old Continent, from the
oppressive idea of eternity, by breaking it up into distinct cycles, or periods of time, each of several thousand
years’ duration. There were four of these cycles, and at the end of each, by the agency of one of the elements, the
human family was swept from the earth, and the sun blotted out from the heavens, to be again rekindled.

They imagined three separate states of existence in the future life. The wicked, comprehending the great part of
mankind, were to expiate their sins in a place of everlasting darkness. Another class, with no other merit than that of
having died of certain diseases, capriciously selected, were to enjoy a negative existence of indolent contentment. The
highest place was reserved, as in most warlike nations, for the heroes who fell in battle, or in sacrifice. They
passed, at once, into the presence of the Sun, whom they accompanied with songs and choral dances, in his bright
progress through the heavens; and, after some years, their spirits went to animate the clouds and singing birds of
beautiful plumage, and to revel amidst the rich blossoms and odours of the gardens of paradise. Such was the heaven of
the Aztecs; more refined in its character than that of the more polished pagan, whose elysium reflected only the
martial sports, or sensual gratifications, of this life. In the destiny they assigned to the wicked, we discern similar
traces of refinement; since the absence of all physical torture forms a striking contrast to the schemes of suffering
so ingeniously devised by the fancies of the most enlightened nations. In all this, so contrary to the natural
suggestions of the ferocious Aztec, we see the evidences of a higher civilisation, inherited from their predecessors in
the land.

Our limits will allow only a brief allusion to one or two of their most interesting ceremonies. On the death of a
person, his corpse was dressed in the peculiar habiliments of his tutelar deity. It was strewed with pieces of paper,
which operated as charms, against the dangers of the dark road he was to travel. A throng of slaves, if he were rich,
was sacrificed at his obsequies. His body was burned, and the ashes, collected in a vase, were preserved in one of the
apartments of his house. Here we have successively the usages of the Roman Catholic, the Mussulman, the Tartar, and the
ancient Greek and Roman, curious coincidences, which may show how cautious we should be in adopting conclusions founded
on analogy.

A more extraordinary coincidence may be traced with Christian rites, in the ceremony of naming their children. The
lips and bosom of the infant were sprinkled with water, and “the Lord was implored to permit the holy drops to wash
away the sin that was given to it before the foundation of the world; so that the child might be born anew.” We are
reminded of Christian morals, in more than one of their prayers, in which they use regular forms. “Wilt thou blot us
out, O Lord, for ever? Is this punishment intended, not for our reformation, but for our destruction?” Again, “Impart
to us, out of thy great mercy, thy gifts which we are not worthy to receive through our own merits.” “Keep peace with
all,” says another petition; “bear injuries with humility; God, who sees, will avenge you.” But the most striking
parallel with Scripture is in the remarkable declaration, that “he who looks too curiously on a woman, commits adultery
with his eyes.” These pure and elevated maxims, it is true, are mixed up with others of a puerile, and even brutal
character, arguing that confusion of the moral perceptions, which is natural in the twilight of civilisation. One would
not expect, however, to meet, in such a state of society, with doctrines as sublime as any inculcated by the
enlightened codes of ancient philosophy.

But, although the Aztec mythology gathered nothing from the beautiful inventions of the poet, nor from the
refinements of philosophy, it was much indebted, as I have noticed, to the priests, who endeavoured to dazzle the
imagination of the people by the most formal and pompous ceremonial. The influence of the priesthood must be greatest
in an imperfect state of civilisation, where it engrosses all the scanty science of the time in its own body. This is
particularly the case, when the science is of that spurious kind which is less occupied with the real phenomena of
nature, than with the fanciful chimeras of human superstition. Such are the sciences of astrology and divination, in
which the Aztec priests were well initiated; and while they seemed to hold the keys of the future in their own hands,
they impressed the ignorant people with sentiments of superstitious awe, beyond that which has probably existed in any
other country — even in Ancient Egypt.

The sacerdotal order was very numerous; as may be inferred from the statement that five thousand priests were, in
some way or other, attached to the principal temple in the capital. The various ranks and functions of this
multitudinous body were discriminated with great exactness. Those best instructed in music took the management of the
choirs. Others arranged the festivals conformably to the calendar. Some superintended the education of youth, and
others had charge of the hieroglyphical paintings and oral traditions; while the dismal rites of sacrifice were
reserved for the chief dignitaries of the order. At the head of the whole establishment were two high-priests, elected
from the order, as it would seem, by the king and principal nobles, without reference to birth, but solely for their
qualifications, as shown by their previous conduct in a subordinate station. They were equal in dignity, and inferior
only to the sovereign, who rarely acted without their advice in weighty matters of public concern.

The priests were each devoted to the service of some particular deity, and had quarters provided within the spacious
precincts of their temple; at least, while engaged in immediate attendance there — for they were allowed to marry and
have families of their own. In this monastic residence they lived in all the stern severity of conventual discipline.
Thrice during the day, and once at night, they were called to prayers. They were frequent in their ablutions and
vigils, and mortified the flesh by fasting and cruel penance — drawing blood from their bodies by flagellation, or by
piercing them with the thorns of the aloe.

The great cities were divided into districts, placed under the charge of a sort of parochial clergy, who regulated
every act of religion within their precincts. It is remarkable that they administered the rites of confession and
absolution. The secrets of the confessional were held inviolable, and penances were imposed of much the same kind as
those enjoined in the Roman Catholic Church. There were two remarkable peculiarities in the Aztec ceremony. The first
was, that, as the repetition of an offence, once atoned for, was deemed inexpiable, confession was made but once in a
man’s life, and was usually deferred to a late period of it, the penitent unburdened his conscience, and settled, at
once, the long arrears of iniquity. Another peculiarity was, that priestly absolution was received in Place of the
legal punishment of offences, and authorised an acquittal in case of arrest. Long after the Conquest, the simple
natives, when they came under the arm of the law, sought to escape by producing the certificate of their
confession.

One of the most important duties of the priesthood was that of education, to which certain buildings were
appropriated within the enclosure of the principal temple. Here the youth of both sexes, of the higher and middling
orders, were placed at a very tender age. The girls were intrusted to the care of priestesses; for women were allowed
to exercise sacerdotal functions, except those of sacrifice. In these institutions the boys were drilled in the routine
of monastic discipline; they decorated the shrines of the gods with flowers, fed the sacred fires, and took part in the
religious chants and festivals. Those in the higher school — the Calmecac, as it was called — were initiated in their
traditionary lore, the mysteries of hieroglyphics, the principles of government, and such branches of astronomical and
natural science as were within the compass of the priesthood. The girls learned various feminine employments,
especially to weave and embroider rich coverings for the altars of the gods. Great attention was paid to the moral
discipline of both sexes. The most perfect decorum prevailed; and offences were punished with extreme rigour, in some
instances with death itself. Terror, not love, was the spring of education with the Aztecs.

At a suitable age for marrying, or for entering into the world, the pupils were dismissed, with much ceremony, from
the convent, and the recommendation of the principal often introduced those most competent to responsible situations in
public life. Such was the crafty policy of the Mexican priests, who, by reserving to themselves the business of
instruction, were enabled to mould the young and plastic mind according to their own wills, and to train it early to
implicit reverence for religion and its ministers; a reverence which still maintained its hold on the iron nature of
the warrior, long after every other vestige of education had been effaced by the rough trade to which he was
devoted.

To each of the principal temples lands were annexed for the maintenance of the priests. These estates were augmented
by the policy of devotion of successive princes, until, under the last Montezuma, they had swollen to an enormous
extent, and covered every district of the empire. The priests took the management of their property into their own
hands; and they seem to have treated their tenants with the liberality and indulgence characteristic of monastic
corporations. Besides the large supplies drawn from this source, the religious order was enriched with the
first-fruits, and such other offerings as piety or superstition dictated. The surplus beyond what was required for the
support of the national worship was distributed in alms among the poor; a duty strenuously prescribed by their moral
code. Thus we find the same religion inculcating lessons of pure philanthropy, on the one hand, and of merciless
extermination, as we shall soon see, on the other.

The Mexican temples — teocallis, “houses of God,” as they were called — were very numerous. There were several
hundreds in each of the principal cities, many of them, doubtless, very humble edifices. They were solid masses of
earth, cased with brick or stone, and in their form somewhat resembled the pyramidal structures of ancient Egypt. The
bases of many of them were more than a hundred feet square, and they towered to a still greater height. They were
distributed into four or five stories, each of smaller dimensions than that below. The ascent was by a flight of steps,
at an angle of the pyramid, on the outside. This led to a sort of terrace or gallery, at the base of the second story,
which passed quite round the building to another flight of stairs, commencing also at the same angle as the preceding
and directly over it, and leading to a similar terrace; so that one had to make the circuit of the temple several
times, before reaching the summit. In some instances the stairway led directly up the centre of the western face of the
building. The top was a broad area, on which were erected one or two towers, forty or fifty feet high, the sanctuaries
in which stood the sacred images of the presiding deities. Before these towers stood the dreadful stone of sacrifice,
and two lofty altars, on which fires were kept, as inextinguishable as those in the temple of Vesta. There were said to
be six hundred of these altars on smaller buildings within the inclosure of the great temple of Mexico, which, with
those on the sacred edifices in other parts of the city, shed a brilliant illumination over its streets, through the
darkest night.

From the construction of their temples, all religious services were public. The long processions of priests, winding
round their massive sides, as they rose higher and higher towards the summit, and the dismal rites of sacrifice
performed there, were all visible from the remotest corners of the capital, impressing on the spectator’s mind a
superstitious veneration for the mysteries of his religion, and for the dread ministers by whom they were
interpreted.

This impression was kept in full force by their numerous festivals. Every month was consecrated to some protecting
deity; and every week — nay, almost every day, was set down in their calendar for some appropriate celebration; so that
it is difficult to understand how the ordinary business of life could have been compatible with the exactions of
religion. Many of their ceremonies were of a light and cheerful complexion, consisting of the national songs and
dances, in which both sexes joined. Processions were made of women and children crowned with garlands and bearing
offerings of fruits, the ripened maize, or the sweet incense of copal and other odoriferous gums, while the altars of
the deity were stained with no blood save that of animals. These were the peaceful rites derived from their Toltec
predecessors, on which the fierce Aztecs engrafted a superstition too loathsome to be exhibited in all its nakedness,
and one over which I would gladly draw a veil altogether, but that it would leave the reader in ignorance of their most
striking institution, and one that had the greatest influence in forming the national character.

Human sacrifices were adopted by the Aztecs early in the fourteenth century, about two hundred years before the
Conquest. Rare at first, they became more frequent with the wider extent of their empire; till, at length, almost every
festival was closed with this cruel abomination. These religious ceremonials were generally arranged in such a manner
as to afford a type of the most prominent circumstances in the character or history of the deity who was the object of
them. A single example will suffice.

One of their most important festivals was that in honour of the god Tezcatlipoca, whose rank was inferior only to
that of the Supreme Being. He was called “the soul of the world,” and supposed to have been its creator. He was
depicted as a handsome man, endowed with perpetual youth. A year before the intended sacrifice, a captive,
distinguished for his personal beauty, and without a blemish on his body, was selected to represent this deity. Certain
tutors took charge of him, and instructed him how to perform his new part with becoming grace and dignity. He was
arrayed in a splendid dress, regaled with incense, and with a profusion of sweet-scented flowers, of which the ancient
Mexicans were as fond as their descendants of the present day. When he went abroad, he was attended by a train of the
royal pages, and, as he halted in the streets to play some favourite melody, the crowd prostrated themselves before
him, and did him homage as the representative of their good deity. In this way he led an easy, luxurious life, till
within a month of his sacrifice. Four beautiful girls, bearing the names of the principal goddesses, were then selected
to share the honours of his bed; and with them he continued to live in idle dalliance feasted at the banquets of the
principal nobles, who paid him all the honours of a divinity.

At length the fatal day of sacrifice arrived. The term of his short-lived glories was at an end. He was stripped of
his gaudy apparel, and bade adieu to the fair partners of his revelries. One of the royal barges transported him across
the lake to a temple which rose on its margin, about a league from the city. Hither the inhabitants of the capital
flocked, to witness the consummation of the ceremony. As the sad procession wound up the sides of the pyramid, the
unhappy victim threw away his gay chaplet of flowers, and broke in pieces the musical instruments with which he had
solaced the hours of captivity. On the summit he was received by six priests, whose long and matted locks flowed
disorderly over their sable robes, covered with hieroglyphic scrolls of mystic import. They led him to the sacrificial
stone, a huge block of jasper, with its upper surface somewhat convex. On this the prisoner was stretched. Five priests
secured his head and his limbs; while the sixth, clad in a scarlet mantle, emblematic of his bloody office, dexterously
opened the breast of the wretched victim with a sharp razor of itztli — a volcanic substance hard as flint — and,
inserting his hand in the wound, tore out the palpitating heart. The minister of death, first holding this up towards
the sun, an object of worship throughout Anahuac, cast it at the feet of the deity to whom the temple was devoted,
while the multitudes below prostrated themselves in humble adoration. The tragic story of this prisoner was expounded
by the priests as the type of human destiny, which, brilliant in its commencement, too often closes in sorrow and
disaster.

Such was the form of human sacrifice usually practised by the Aztecs. It was the same that often met the indignant
eyes of the Europeans, in their progress through the country, and from the dreadful doom of which they themselves were
not exempted. There were, indeed, some occasions when preliminary tortures, of the most exquisite kind — with which it
is unnecessary to shock the reader — were inflicted, but they always terminated with the bloody ceremony above
described. It should be remarked, however, that such tortures were not the spontaneous suggestions of cruelty, as with
the North American Indians; but were all rigorously prescribed in the Aztec ritual, and doubtless, were often inflicted
with the same compunctious visitings which a devout familiar of the Holy Office might at times experience in executing
its stern decrees. Women, as well as the other sex, were sometimes reserved for sacrifice. On some occasions,
particularly in seasons of drought, at the festival of the insatiable Tlaloc, the god of rain, children, for the most
part infants, were offered up. As they were borne along in open litters, dressed in their festal robes, and decked with
the fresh blossoms of spring, they moved the hardest heart to pity, though their cries were drowned in the wild chant
of the priests, who read in their tears a favourable augury for their petition. These innocent victims were generally
bought by the priests of parents who were poor, but who stifled the voice of nature, probably less at the suggestions
of poverty than of a wretched superstition.

The most loathsome part of the story, the manner in which the body of the sacrificed captive was disposed of,
remains yet to be told. It was delivered to the warrior who had taken him in battle, and by him, after being dressed,
was served up in an entertainment to his friends. This was not the coarse repast of famished cannibals, but a banquet
teeming with delicious beverages and delicate viands, prepared with art, and attended by both sexes, who, as we shall
see hereafter, conducted themselves with all the decorum of civilised life. Surely, never were refinement and the
extreme of barbarism brought so closely in contact with each other!

Human sacrifices have been practised by many nations, not excepting the most polished nations of antiquity; but
never by any, on a scale to be compared with those in Anahuac. The amount of victims immolated on its accursed altars
would stagger the faith of the least scrupulous believer. Scarcely any author pretends to estimate the yearly
sacrifices throughout the empire at less than twenty thousand, and some carry the number as high as fifty!

On great occasions, as the coronation of a king, or the consecration of a temple, the number becomes still more
appalling. At the dedication of the great temple of Huitzilopochtli, in 1486, the prisoners, who for some years had
been reserved for the purpose, were drawn from all quarters to the capital. They were ranged in files, forming a
procession nearly two miles long. The ceremony consumed several days, and seventy thousand captives are said to have
perished at the shrine of this terrible deity! But who can believe that so numerous a body would have suffered
themselves to be led, unresistingly, like sheep to the slaughter? Or how could their remains, too great for consumption
in the ordinary way, be disposed of, without breeding a pestilence in the capital? Yet the event was of recent date,
and is unequivocally attested by the best informed historians. One fact may be considered certain. It was customary to
preserve the skulls of the sacrificed, in buildings appropriated to the purpose. The companions of Cortes counted one
hundred and thirty-six thousand in one of these edifices! Without attempting a precise calculation, therefore, it is
safe to conclude that thousands were yearly offered up, in the different cities of Anahuac, on the bloody altars of the
Mexican divinities.

Indeed, the great object of war with the Aztecs was quite as much to gather victims for their sacrifices, as to
extend their empire. Hence it was, that an enemy was never slain in battle, if there was a chance of taking him alive.
To this circumstance the Spaniards repeatedly owed their preservation. When Montezuma was asked, “why he had suffered
the republic of Tlascala to maintain her independence on his borders,” he replied, “That she might furnish him with
victims for his gods!” As the supply began to fail, the priests, the Dominicans of the New World, bellowed aloud for
more, and urged on their superstitious sovereign by the denunciations of celestial wrath. Like the militant churchmen
of Christendom in the Middle Ages, they mingled themselves in the ranks, and were conspicuous in the thickest of the
fight, by their hideous aspects and frantic gestures. Strange, that in every country the most fiendish passions of the
human heart have been those kindled in the name of religion!

The influence of these practices on the Aztec character was as disastrous as might have been expected. Familiarity
with the bloody rites of sacrifice steeled the heart against human sympathy, and begat a thirst for carnage, like that
excited in the Romans by the exhibitions of the circus. The perpetual recurrence of ceremonies, in which the people
took part, associated religion with their most intimate concerns, and spread the gloom of superstition over the
domestic hearth, until the character of the nation wore a grave and even melancholy aspect, which belongs to their
descendants at the present day. The influence of the priesthood, of course, became unbounded. The sovereign thought
himself honoured by being permitted to assist in the services of the temple. Far from limiting the authority of the
priests to spiritual matters, he often surrendered his opinion to theirs, where they were least competent to give it.
It was their opposition that prevented the final capitulation which would have saved the capital. The whole nation,
from the peasant to the prince, bowed their necks to the worst kind of tyranny — that of a blind fanaticism.

Human sacrifice, however cruel, has nothing in it degrading to its victim. It may be rather said to ennoble him, by
devoting him to the gods. Although so terrible with the Aztecs, it was sometimes voluntarily embraced by them, as the
most glorious death, and one that opened a sure passage into paradise. The Inquisition, on the other hand, branded its
victims with infamy in this world, and consigned them to everlasting perdition in the next.

One detestable feature of the Aztec superstition, however, sunk it far below the Christian. This was its
cannibalism; though, in truth, the Mexicans were not cannibals, in the coarsest acceptation of the term. They did not
feed on human flesh merely to gratify a brutish appetite, but in obedience to their religion. Their repasts were made
of the victims whose blood had been poured out on the altar of sacrifice. This is a distinction worthy of notice.
Still, cannibalism, under any form, or whatever sanction, cannot but have a fatal influence on the nation addicted to
it. It suggests ideas so loathsome, so degrading to man, to his spiritual and immortal nature, that it is impossible
the people who practise it should make any great progress in moral or intellectual culture. The Mexicans furnish no
exception to this remark. The civilisation which they possessed descended from the Toltecs, a race who never stained
their altars, still less their banquets, with the blood of man. All that deserved the name of science in Mexico came
from this source; and the crumbling ruins of edifices, attributed to them, still extant in various parts of New Spain,
show a decided superiority in their architecture over that of the later races of Anahuac. It is true, the Mexicans made
great proficiency in many of the social and mechanic arts, in that material culture — if I may so call it — the natural
growth of increasing opulence, which ministers to the gratification of the senses. In purely intellectual progress,
they were behind the Tezcucans, whose wise sovereigns came into the abominable rites of their neighbours with
reluctance, and practised them on a much more moderate scale.

Chapter IV

AZTEC HIEROGLYPHICS— MANUSCRIPTS— ARITHMETIC— CHRONOLOGY— ASTRONOMY

IT is a relief to turn from the gloomy pages of the preceding chapter to a brighter side of the picture, and to
contemplate the same nation in its generous struggle to raise itself from a state of barbarism, and to take a positive
rank in the scale of civilisation. It is not the less interesting, that these efforts were made on an entirely new
theatre of action, apart from those influences that operate in the Old World; the inhabitants of which, forming one
great brotherhood of nations, are knit together by sympathies, that make the faintest spark of knowledge struck out in
one quarter, spread gradually wider and wider, until it has diffused a cheering light over the remotest. It is curious
to observe the human mind, in this new position, conforming to the same laws as on the ancient continent, and taking a
similar direction in its first inquiries after truth — so similar, indeed, as, although not warranting, perhaps, the
idea of imitation, to suggest, at least, that of a common origin.

In the eastern hemisphere, we find some nations, as the Greeks, for instance, early smitten with such a love of the
beautiful as to be unwilling to dispense with it, even in the graver productions of science; and other nations, again,
proposing a severer end to themselves, to which even imagination and elegant art were made subservient. The productions
of such a people must be criticised, not by the ordinary rules of taste, but by their adaptation to the peculiar end
for which they were designed. Such were the Egyptians in the Old World, and the Mexicans in the New. We have already
had occasion to notice the resemblance borne by the latter nation to the former in their religious economy. We shall be
more struck with it in their scientific culture, especially their hieroglyphical writing and their astronomy.

To describe actions and events by delineating visible objects, seems to be a natural suggestion, and is practised,
after a certain fashion, by the rudest savages. The North American Indian carves an arrow on the bark of trees to show
his followers the direction of his march, and some other sign to show the success of his expeditions. But to paint
intelligibly a consecutive series of these actions — forming what Warburton has happily called picture-writing —
requires a combination of ideas, that amounts to a positively intellectual effort. Yet further, when the object of the
painter, instead of being limited to the present, is to penetrate the past, and to gather from its dark recesses
lessons of instruction for coming generations, we see the dawnings of a literary culture, and recognise the proof of a
decided civilisation in the attempt itself, however imperfectly it may be executed. The literal imitation of objects
will not answer for this more complex and extended plan. It would occupy too much space, as well as time, in the
execution. It then becomes necessary to abridge the pictures, to confine the drawing to outlines, or to such prominent
parts of the bodies delineated, as may readily suggest the whole. This is the representative or figurative writing,
which forms the lowest stage of hieroglyphics.

But there are things which have no type in the material world; abstract ideas, which can only be represented by
visible objects supposed to have some quality analogous to the idea intended. This constitutes symbolical writing, the
most difficult of all to the interpreter, since the analogy between the material and immaterial object is often purely
fanciful, or local in its application. Who, for instance, could suspect the association which made a beetle represent
the universe, as with the Egyptians, or a serpent typify time, as with the Aztecs?

The third and last division is the phonetic, in which signs are made to represent sounds, either entire words, or
parts of them. This is the nearest approach of the hieroglyphical series to that beautiful invention, the alphabet, by
which language is resolved into its elementary sounds, and an apparatus supplied for easily and accurately expressing
the most delicate shades of thought.

The Egyptians were well skilled in all three kinds of hieroglyphics. But, although their public monuments display
the first class, in their ordinary intercourse and written records, it is now certain that they almost wholly relied on
the phonetic character. Strange, that having thus broken down the thin partition which divided them from an alphabet,
their latest monuments should exhibit no nearer approach to it than their earliest. The Aztecs, also, were acquainted
with the several varieties of hieroglyphics. But they relied on the figurative infinitely more than on the others. The
Egyptians were at the top of the scale, the Aztecs at the bottom.

In casting the eye over a Mexican manuscript, or map, as it is called, one is struck with the grotesque caricatures
it exhibits of the human figure; monstrous, overgrown heads, on puny misshapen bodies, which are themselves hard and
angular in their outlines, and without the least skill in composition. On closer inspection, however, it is obvious
that it is not so much a rude attempt to delineate nature, as a conventional symbol, to express the idea in the most
clear and forcible manner; in the same way as the pieces of similar value on a chess-board, while they correspond with
one another in form, bear little resemblance, usually, to the objects they represent. Those parts of the figure are
most distinctly traced, which are the most important. So, also the colouring, instead of the delicate gradations of
nature, exhibits only gaudy and violent contrasts, such as may produce the most vivid impression. “For even colours,”
as Gama observes, “speak in the Aztec hieroglyphics.”

But in the execution of all this the Mexicans were much inferior to the Egyptians. The drawings of the latter,
indeed, are exceedingly defective when criticised by the rules of art; for they were as ignorant of perspective as the
Chinese, and only exhibited the head in profile, with the eye in the centre, and with total absence of expression. But
they handled the pencil more gracefully than the Aztecs, were more true to the natural forms of objects, and, above
all, showed great superiority in abridging the original figure by giving only the outlines, or some characteristic. or
essential feature. This simplified the process, and facilitated the communication of thought. An Egyptian text has
almost the appearance of alphabetical writing in its regular lines of minute figures. A Mexican text looks usually like
a collection of pictures, each one forming the subject of a separate study. This is particularly the case with the
delineations of mythology; in which the story is told by a conglomeration of symbols, that may remind one more of the
mysterious anaglyphs sculptured on the temples of the Egyptians, than of their written records.

The Aztecs had various emblems for expressing such things as, from their nature, could not be directly represented
by the painter; as, for example, the years, months, days, the seasons, the elements, the heavens, and the like. A
“tongue” denoted speaking; a “footprint,” travelling; “a man sitting on the ground,” an earthquake. These symbols were
often very arbitrary, varying with the caprice of the writer; and it requires a nice discrimination to interpret them,
as a slight change in the form or position of the figure intimated a very different meaning. An ingenious writer
asserts, that the priests devised secret symbolic characters for the record of their religious mysteries. It is
possible. But the researches of Champollion lead to the conclusion, that the similar opinion, formerly entertained
respecting the Egyptian hieroglyphics, is without foundation.

Lastly, they employed, as above stated, phonetic signs, though these were chiefly confined to the names of persons
and places; which, being derived from some circumstance, or characteristic quality, were accommodated to the
hieroglyphical system. Thus the town Cimatlan was compounded of cimatl, a “root,” which grew near it, and tlan,
signifying “near”; Tlaxcallan meant “the place of bread,” from its rich fields of corn; Huexotzinco, “a place
surrounded by willows.” The names of persons were often significant of their adventures and achievements. That of the
great Tezcucan prince, Nezahualcoyotl, signified “hungry fox,” intimating his sagacity, and his distresses in early
life. The emblems of such names were no sooner seen, than they suggested to every Mexican the person and place
intended; and, when painted on their shields, or embroidered on their banners, became the armorial bearings by which
city and chieftain were distinguished, as in Europe, in the age of chivalry.

But, although the Aztecs were instructed in all the varieties of hieroglyphical painting, they chiefly resorted to
the clumsy method of direct representation. Had their empire lasted, like the Egyptian, several thousand, instead of
the brief space of two hundred, years, they would, doubtless, like them, have advanced to the more frequent use of the
phonetic writing. But, before they could be made acquainted with the capabilities of their own system, the Spanish
Conquest, by introducing the European alphabet, supplied their scholars with a more perfect contrivance for expressing
thought, which soon supplanted the ancient pictorial character.

Clumsy as it was, however, the Aztec picture-writing seems to have been adequate to the demands of the nation, in
their imperfect state of civilisation. By means of it were recorded all their laws, and even their regulations for
domestic economy; their tribute-rolls, specifying the imposts of the various towns; their mythology, calendars, and
rituals; their political annals, carried back to a period long before the foundation of the city. They digested a
complete system of chronology, and could specify with accuracy the dates of the most important events in their history;
the year being inscribed on the margin, against the particular circumstance recorded. It is true, history, thus
executed, must necessarily be vague and fragmentary. Only a few leading incidents could be presented. But in this it
did not differ much from the monkish chronicles of the dark ages, which often dispose of years in a few brief
sentences; quite long enough for the annals of barbarians.

In order to estimate aright the picture-writing of the Aztecs, one must regard it in connection with oral tradition,
to which it was auxiliary. In the colleges of the priests the youth were instructed in astronomy, history, mythology,
etc.; and those who were to follow the profession of hieroglyphical painting were taught the application of the
characters appropriated to each of these branches. In an historical work, one had charge of the chronology, another of
the events. Every part of the labour was thus mechanically distributed. The pupils, instructed in all that was before
known in their several departments, were prepared to extend still further the boundaries of their imperfect science.
The hieroglyphics served as a sort of stenography, a collection of notes, suggesting to the initiated much more than
could be conveyed by a literal interpretation. This combination of the written and the oral comprehended what may be
called the literature of the Aztecs.

Their manuscripts were made of different materials — of cotton cloth, or skins nicely prepared; of a composition of
silk and gum; but, for the most part, of a fine fabric from the leaves of the aloe, agave Americana, called by the
natives, maguey, which grows luxuriantly over the tablelands of Mexico. A sort of paper was made from it, resembling
somewhat the Egyptian papyrus, which, when properly dressed and polished, is said to have been more soft and beautiful
than parchment. Some of the specimens, still existing, exhibit their original freshness, and the paintings on them
retain their brilliancy of colours. They were sometimes done up into rolls, but more frequently into volumes of
moderate size, in which the paper was shut up, like a folding-screen, with a leaf or tablet of wood at each extremity,
that gave the whole, when closed, the appearance of a book. The length of the strips was determined only by
convenience. As the pages might be read and referred to separately, this form had obvious advantages over the rolls of
the ancients.

At the time of the arrival of the Spaniards, great quantities of these manuscripts were treasured up in the country.
Numerous persons were employed in painting, and the dexterity of their operations excited the astonishment of the
conquerors. Unfortunately, this was mingled with other, and unworthy feelings. The strange, unknown characters
inscribed on them excited suspicion. They were looked on as magic scrolls; and were regarded in the same light with the
idols and temples, as the symbols of a pestilent superstition that must be extirpated. The first archbishop of Mexico,
Don Juan de Zumarraga — a name that should be as immortal as that of Omar — collected these paintings from every
quarter, especially from Tezcuco, the most cultivated capital in Anahuac, and the great depository of the national
archives. He then caused them to be piled up in a “mountain-heap,”— as it is called by the Spanish writers themselves —
and reduced them all to ashes! His greater countryman, Archbishop Ximenes, had celebrated a similar auto-dafe of Arabic
manuscripts, in Granada, some twenty years before. Never did fanaticism achieve two more signal triumphs, than by the
annihilation of so many curious monuments of human ingenuity and learning!

The unlettered soldiers were not slow in imitating the example of their prelate. Every chart and volume which fell
into their hands was wantonly destroyed; so that, when the scholars of a later and more enlightened age anxiously
sought to recover some of these memorials of civilisation, nearly all had perished, and the few surviving were
jealously hidden by the natives. Through the indefatigable labours of a private individual, however, a considerable
collection was eventually deposited in the archives of Mexico; but was so little heeded there, that some were
plundered, others decayed piecemeal from the damps and mildews, and others, again, were used up as waste-paper! We
contemplate with indignation the cruelties inflicted by the early conquerors. But indignation is qualified with
contempt, when we see them thus ruthlessly trampling out the spark of knowledge, the common boon and property of all
mankind. We may well doubt, which has the strongest claims to civilisation, the victor or the vanquished.

A few of the Mexican manuscripts have found their way, from time to time, to Europe, and are carefully preserved in
the public libraries of its capitals. They are brought together in the magnificent work of Lord Kingsborough; but not
one is there from Spain. The most important of them, for the light in throws on the Aztec institutions, is the Mendoza
Codex; which, after its mysterious disappearance for more than a century, has at length re-appeared in the Bodleian
library at Oxford. It has been several times engraved. The most brilliant in colouring, probably, is the Borgian
collection, in Rome. The most curious, however, is the Dresden Codex, which has excited less attention than it
deserves. Although usually classed among Mexican manuscripts, it bears little resemblance to them in its execution; the
figures of objects are more delicately drawn, and the characters, unlike the Mexican, appear to be purely arbitrary,
and are possibly phonetic. Their regular arrangement is quite equal to the Egyptian. The whole infers a much higher
civilisation than the Aztec, and offers abundant food for curious speculation.

Some few of these maps have interpretations annexed to them, which were obtained from the natives after the
Conquest. The greater part are without any, and cannot now be unriddled. Had the Mexicans made free use of a phonetic
alphabet, it might have been originally easy, by mastering the comparatively few signs employed in this kind of
communication, to have got a permanent key to the whole. A brief inscription has furnished a clue to the vast labyrinth
of Egyptian hieroglyphics. But the Aztec characters, representing individuals, or at most, species, require to be made
out separately; a hopeless task, for which little aid is to be expected from the vague and general tenor of the few
interpretations now existing. In less than a hundred years after the Conquest, the knowledge of the hieroglyphics had
so far declined, that a diligent Tezcucan writer complains he could find in the country only two persons, both very
aged, at all competent to interpret them.

It is not probable, therefore, that the art of reading these picture-writings will ever be recovered; a circumstance
certainly to be regretted. Not that the records of a semi-civilised people would be likely to contain any new truth or
discovery important to human comfort or progress; but they could scarcely fail to throw some additional light on the
previous history of the nation, and that of the more polished people who before occupied the country. This would be
still more probable, if any literary relics of their Toltec predecessors were preserved; and, if report be true, an
important compilation from this source was extant at the time of the invasion, and may have perhaps contributed to
swell the holocaust of Zumarraga. It is no great stretch of fancy, to suppose that such records might reveal the
successive links in the mighty chain of migration of the primitive races, and, by carrying us back to the seat of their
possessions in the Old World, have solved the mystery which has so long perplexed the learned, in regard to the
settlement and civilisation of the New.

Besides the hieroglyphical maps, the traditions of the country were embodied in the songs and hymns, which, as
already mentioned, were carefully taught in the public schools. These were various, embracing the mythic legends of a
heroic age, the warlike achievements of their own, or the softer tales of love and pleasure. Many of them were composed
by scholars and persons of rank, and are cited as affording the most authentic record of events. The Mexican dialect
was rich and expressive, though inferior to the Tezcucan, the most polished of the idioms of Anahuac. None of the Aztec
compositions have survived, but we can form some estimate of the general state of poetic culture from the odes which
have come down to us from the royal house of Tezcuco. Sahagun has furnished us with translations of their more
elaborate prose, consisting of prayers and public discourses, which give a favourable idea of their eloquence, and show
that they paid much attention to rhetorical effect. They are said to have had, also, something like theatrical
exhibitions, of a pantomimic sort, in which the faces of the performers were covered with masks, and the figures of
birds or animals were frequently represented; an imitation to which they may have been led by the familiar delineation
of such objects in their hieroglyphics. In all this we see the dawning of a literary culture, surpassed, however, by
their attainments in the severer walks of mathematical science.

They devised a system of notation in their arithmetic, sufficiently simple. The first twenty numbers were expressed
by a corresponding number of dots. The first five had specific names; after which they were represented by combining
the fifth with one of the four preceding: as five and one for six, five and two for seven, and so on. Ten and fifteen
had each a separate name, which was also combined with the first four, to express a higher quantity. These four,
therefore, were the radical characters of their oral arithmetic, in the same manner as they were of the written with
the ancient Romans; a more simple arrangement, probably, than any existing among Europeans. Twenty was expressed by a
separate hieroglyphic — a flag. Larger sums were reckoned by twenties, and, in writing, by repeating the number of
flags. The square of twenty, four hundred, had a separate sign, that of a plume, and so had the cube of twenty, or
eight thousand, which was denoted by a purse, or sack. This was the whole arithmetical apparatus of the Mexicans, by
the combination of which they were enabled to indicate any quantity. For greater expedition, they used to denote
fractions of the larger sums by drawing only a part of the object. Thus, half or three-fourths of a plume, or of a
purse, represented that proportion of their respective sums, and so on. With all this, the machinery will appear very
awkward to us, who perform our operations with so much ease by means of the Arabic, or rather, Indian ciphers. It is
not much more awkward, however, than the system pursued by the great mathematicians of antiquity unacquainted with the
brilliant invention which has given a new aspect to mathematical science, of determining the value, in a great measure,
by the relative position of the figures.

In the measurement of time, the Aztecs adjusted their civil year by the solar. They divided it into eighteen months
of twenty days each. Both months and days were expressed by peculiar hieroglyphics — those of the former often
intimating the season of the year, like the French months, at the period of the Revolution. Five complementary days, as
in Egypt, were added, to make up the full number of three hundred and sixty-five. They belonged to no month, and were
regarded as peculiarly unlucky. A month was divided into four weeks, of five days each, on the last of which was the
public fair or market day. This arrangement, different from that of the nations of the Old Continent, whether of Europe
or Asia, has the advantage of giving an equal number of days to each month, and of comprehending entire weeks, without
a fraction, both in the months and in the year.

As the year is composed of nearly six hours more than three hundred and sixty-five days, there still remained an
excess, which, like other nations who have framed a calendar, they provided for by intercalation; not, indeed, every
fourth year, as the Europeans, but at longer intervals, like some of the Asiatics. They waited till the expiration of
fifty-two vague years, when they interposed thirteen days, or rather twelve and a half, this being the number which had
fallen in arrear. Had they inserted thirteen, it would have been too much, since the annual excess over three hundred
and sixty-five is about eleven minutes less than six hours. But, as their calendar, at the time of the Conquest, was
found to correspond with the European (making allowance for the subsequent Gregorian reform), they would seem to have
adopted the shorter period of twelve days and a half, which brought them, within an almost inappreciable fraction, to
the exact length of the tropical year, as established by the most accurate observations. Indeed, the intercalation of
twenty-five days, in every hundred and four years, shows a nicer adjustment of civil to solar time than is presented by
any European calendar; since more than five centuries must elapse, before the loss of an entire day. Such was the
astonishing precision displayed by the Aztecs, or, perhaps, by their more polished Toltec predecessors, in these
computations, so difficult as to have baffled, till a comparatively recent period, the most enlightened nations of
Christendom!

The chronological system of the Mexicans, by which they determined the date of any particular event, was also very
remarkable. The epoch, from which they reckoned, corresponded with the year 1091, of the Christian era. It was the
period of the reform of their calendar, soon after their migration from Aztlan. They threw the years, as already
noticed, into great cycles, of fifty-two each, which they called “sheafs,” or “bundles,” and represented by a quantity
of reeds bound together by a string. As often as this hieroglyphic occurs in their maps, it shows the number of half
centuries. To enable them to specify any particular year, they divided the great cycle into four smaller cycles, or
indictions, of thirteen years each. They then adopted two periodical series of signs, one consisting of their numerical
dots up to thirteen, the other, of four hieroglyphics of the years.1 These
latter they repeated in regular succession, setting against each one a number of the corresponding series of dots,
continued also in regular succession up to thirteen. The same system was pursued through the four indictions, which
thus, it will be observed, began always with a different hieroglyphic of the year from the preceding; and in this way,
each of the hieroglyphics was made to combine successively with each of the numerical signs, but never twice with the
same; since four, and thirteen, the factors of fifty-two — the number of years in the cycle — must admit of just as
many combinations as are equal to their product. Thus every year had its appropriate symbol, by which it was, at once,
recognised. And this symbol, preceded by the proper number of “bundles,” indicating the half centuries, showed the
precise time which had elapsed since the national epoch of 1091. The ingenious contrivance of a periodical series, in
place of the cumbrous system of hieroglyphical notation, is not peculiar to the Aztecs, and is to be found among
various people on the Asiatic continent — the same in principle, though varying materially in arrangement.

1 These hieroglyphics were a “rabbit,” a “reed,” a “flint,” a
“house.”

(SEE ILLUSTRATION.)

The solar calendar, above described, might have answered all the purposes of the nation; but the priests chose to
construct another for themselves. This was called a “lunar reckoning,” though nowise accommodated to the revolutions of
the moon. It was formed, also, of two periodical series; one of them consisting of thirteen numerical signs, or dots,
the other of the twenty hieroglyphics of the days. But, as the product of these combinations would only be 260, and, as
some confusion might arise from the repetition of the same terms for the remaining 105 days of the year, they invented
a third series, consisting of nine additional hieroglyphics, which, alternating with the two preceding series, rendered
it impossible that the three should coincide twice in the same year, or indeed in less than 2340 days; since 20 X 13 X
9 = 2340. Thirteen was a mystic number, of frequent use in their tables. Why they resorted to that of nine, on this
occasion, is not so clear.

This second calendar rouses a holy indignation in the early Spanish missionaries, and Father Sahagun loudly condemns
it as “most unhallowed, since it is founded neither on natural reason nor on the influence of the planets, nor on the
true course of the year; but is plainly the work of necromancy, and the fruit of a compact with the Devil!” One may
doubt, whether the superstition of those who invented the scheme was greater than that of those who impugned it. At all
events, we may, without having recourse to supernatural agency, find in the human heart a sufficient explanation of its
origin; in that love of power, that has led the priesthood of many a faith to affect a mystery, the key to which was in
their own keeping.

By means of this calendar the Aztec priests kept their own records, regulated the festivals and seasons of
sacrifice, and made all their astrological calculations. The astrological scheme of the Aztecs was founded less on the
planetary influences than on those of the arbitrary signs they had adopted for the months and days. The character of
the leading sign, in each lunar cycle of thirteen days, gave a complexion to the whole; though this was qualified, in
some degree, by the signs of the succeeding days, as well as by those of the hours. It was in adjusting these
conflicting forces that the great art of the diviner was shown. In no country, not even in ancient Egypt, were the
dreams of the astrologer more implicitly deferred to. On the birth of a child, he was instantly summoned. The time of
the event was accurately ascertained; and the family hung in trembling suspense, as the minister of Heaven cast the
horoscope of the infant, and unrolled the dark volume of destiny. The influence of the priest was confessed by the
Mexican, in the very first breath which he inhaled.

We know little further of the astronomical attainments of the Aztecs. That they were acquainted with the cause of
eclipses is evident from the representation on their maps, of the disk of the moon projected on that of the sun.
Whether they had arranged a system of constellations, is uncertain; though, that they recognised some of the most
obvious, as the Pleiades for example, is evident from the fact that they regulated their festivals by them. We know of
no astronomical instruments used by them, except the dial. An immense circular block of carved stone, disinterred in
1790, in the great square of Mexico, has supplied an acute and learned scholar with the means of establishing some
interesting facts in regard to Mexican science. This colossal fragment, on which the calendar is engraved, shows that
they had the means of settling the hours of the day with precision, the periods of the solstices and of the equinoxes,
and that of the transit of the sun across the zenith of Mexico.

We cannot contemplate the astronomical science of the Mexicans, so disproportioned to their progress in other walks
of civilisation, without astonishment. An acquaintance with some of the more obvious principles of astronomy is within
the reach of the rudest people. With a little care, they may learn to connect the regular. changes of the seasons with
those of the place of the sun at his rising and setting. They may follow the march of the great luminary through the
heavens, by watching the stars that first brighten on his evening track, or fade in his morning beams. They may measure
a revolution of the moon by marking her phases, and may even form a general idea of the number of such revolutions in a
solar year. But that they should be capable of accurately adjusting their festivals by the movements of the heavenly
bodies, and should fix the true length of the tropical year, with a precision unknown to the great philosophers of
antiquity, could be the result only of a long series of nice and patient observations, evincing no slight progress in
civilisation. But whence could the rude inhabitants of these mountain regions have derived this curious erudition? Not
from the barbarous hordes who roamed over the higher latitudes of the north; nor from the more polished races on the
southern continent, with whom it is apparent they had no intercourse. If we are driven, in our embarrassment, like the
greatest astronomer of our age, to seek the solution among the civilised communities of Asia, we shall still be
perplexed by finding, amidst general resemblance of outline, sufficient discrepancy in the details, to vindicate, in
the judgments Of many, the Aztec claim to originality.

I shall conclude the account of Mexican science with that of a remarkable festival, celebrated by the natives at the
termination of the great cycle of fifty-two years. We have seen, in the preceding chapter, their traditions of the
destruction of the world at four successive epochs. They looked forward confidently to another such catastrophe, to
take place like the preceding, at the close of a cycle, when the sun was to be effaced from the heavens, the human race
from the earth, and when the darkness of chaos was to settle on the habitable globe. The cycle would end in the latter
part of December, and, as the dreary season of the winter solstice approached, and the diminished light of day gave
melancholy presage of its speedy extinction, their apprehensions increased; and, on the arrival of the five “unlucky”
days which closed the year, they abandoned themselves to despair. They broke in pieces the little images of their
household gods, in whom they no longer trusted. The holy fires were suffered to go out in the temples, and none were
lighted in their own dwellings. Their furniture and domestic utensils were destroyed; their garments torn in pieces;
and everything was thrown into disorder, for the coming of the evil genii who were to descend on the desolate
earth.

On the evening of the last day, a procession of priests, assuming the dress and ornaments of their gods, moved from
the capital towards a lofty mountain about two leagues distant. They carried with them a noble victim, the flower of
their captives, and an apparatus for kindling the new fire, the success of which was an augury of the renewal of the
cycle. On reaching the summit of the mountain, the procession paused till midnight; when, as the constellation of the
Pleiades approached the zenith, the new fire was kindled by the friction of the sticks placed on the wounded breast of
the victim. The flame was soon communicated to a funeral pile, on which the body of the slaughtered captive was thrown.
As the light streamed up towards heaven, shouts of joy and triumph burst forth from the countless multitudes who
covered the hills, the terraces of the temples, and the house-tops, with eyes anxiously bent on the mount of sacrifice.
Couriers, with torches lighted at the blazing beacon, rapidly bore them over every part of the country; and the
cheering element was seen brightening on altar and hearthstone, for the circuit of many a league, long before the Sun,
rising on his accustomed track, gave assurance that a new cycle had commenced its march, and that the laws of nature
were not to be reversed.

The following thirteen days were given up to festivity. The houses were cleansed and whitened. The broken vessels
were replaced by new ones. The people, dressed in their gayest apparel, and crowned with garlands and chaplets of
flowers, thronged in joyous procession, to offer up their oblations and thanksgiving in the temples. Dances and games
were instituted, emblematical of the regeneration of the world. It was the carnival of the Aztecs; or rather the
national jubilee, the great secular festival, like that of the Romans, or ancient Etruscans, which few alive had
witnessed before — or could expect to see again.

Chapter V

AGRICULTURE— THE MECHANICAL ARTS— MERCHANTS— DOMESTIC MANNERS

AGRICULTURE in Mexico was in the same advanced state as the other arts of social life. In few countries, indeed, has
it been more respected. It was closely interwoven with the civil and religious institutions of the nation. There were
peculiar deities to preside over it; the names of the months and of the religious festivals had more or less reference
to it. The public taxes, as we have seen, were often paid in agricultural produce. All, except the soldiers and great
nobles, even the inhabitants of the cities, cultivated the soil. The work was chiefly done by the men; the women
scattering the seed, husking the corn, and taking part only in the lighter labours of the field.

There was no want of judgment in the management of their ground. When somewhat exhausted, it was permitted to
recover by lying fallow. Its extreme dryness was relieved by canals, with which the land was partially irrigated; and
the same end was promoted by severe penalties against the destruction of the woods, with which the country, as already
noticed, was well covered before the Conquest. Lastly, they provided for their harvests ample granaries, which were
admitted by the conquerors to be of admirable construction. In this provision we see the forecast of civilised man.

Amongst the most important articles of husbandry, we may notice the banana, whose facility of cultivation and
exuberant returns are so fatal to habits of systematic and hardy industry. Another celebrated plant was the cacao, the
fruit of which furnished the chocolate — from the Mexican chocolatl — now so common a beverage throughout Europe. The
vanilla, confined to a small district of the sea-coast, was used for the same purposes, of flavouring their food and
drink, as with us. The great staple of the country, as, indeed, of the American continent, was maize, or Indian corn,
which grew freely along the valleys, and up the steep sides of the Cordilleras to the high level of the talbleland. The
Aztecs were as curious in its preparation, and as well instructed in its manifold uses, as the most expert New England
housewife. Its gigantic stalks, in these equinoctial regions, afford a saccharine matter, not found to the same extent
in northern latitudes, and supplied the natives with sugar little inferior to that of the cane itself, which was not
introduced among them till after the Conquest. But the miracle of nature was the great Mexican aloe, or maguey, whose
clustering pyramid of flowers, towering above their dark coronals of leaves, were seen sprinkled over many a broad acre
of the tableland. As we have already noticed, its bruised leaves afforded a paste from which paper was manufactured;
its juice was fermented into an intoxicating beverage, pulque, of which the natives, to this day, are excessively fond;
its leaves further supplied an impenetrable thatch for the more humble dwellings; thread, of which coarse stuffs were
made, and strong cords, were drawn from its tough and twisted fibres; pins and needles were made of the thorns at the
extremity of its leaves; and the root, when properly cooked, was converted into a palatable and nutritious food. The
agave, in short, was meat, drink, clothing, and writing materials for the Aztec! Surely, never did Nature enclose in so
compact a form so many of the elements of human comfort and civilisation!

It would be obviously out of place to enumerate in these pages all the varieties of Plants, many of them of
medicinal virtue, which have been introduced from Mexico into Europe. Still less can I attempt a catalogue of its
flowers, which, with their variegated and gaudy colours, form the greatest attraction of our greenhouses. The opposite
climates embraced within the narrow latitudes of New Spain have given to it, probably, the richest and most diversified
Flora to be found in any country on the globe. These different products were systematically arranged by the Aztecs, who
understood their properties, and collected them into nurseries, more extensive than any then existing in the Old World.
It is not improbable that they suggested the idea of those “gardens of plants” which were introduced into Europe not
many years after the Conquest.

The Mexicans were as well acquainted with the mineral, as with the vegetable treasures of their kingdom. Silver,
lead, and, tin they drew from the mines of Tasco; copper from the mountains of Zacotollan. These were taken, not only
from the crude masses on the surface, but from veins wrought in the solid rock, into which they opened extensive
galleries. In fact, the traces of their labours furnished the best indications for the early Spanish miners. Gold,
found on the surface, or gleaned from the beds of rivers, was cast into bars, or, in the form of dust, made part of the
regular tribute of the southern provinces of the empire. The use of iron, with which the soil was impregnated, was
unknown to them. Notwithstanding its abundance, it demands so many processes to prepare it for use, that it has
commonly been one of the last metals pressed into the service of man. The age of iron has followed that of brass, in
fact as well as in fiction.

They found a substitute in an alloy of tin and copper; and, with tools made of this bronze, could cut not only
metals, but, with the aid of a siliceous dust, the hardest substances, as basalt, porphyry, amethysts, and emeralds.
They fashioned these last, which were found very large, into many curious and fantastic forms. They cast, also, vessels
of gold and silver, carving them with their metallic chisels in a very delicate manner. Some of the silver vases were
so large, that a man could not encircle them with his arms. They imitated very nicely the figures of animals, and, what
was extraordinary, could mix the metals in such a manner, that the feathers of a bird, or the scales of a fish, should
be alternately of gold and silver. The Spanish goldsmiths admitted their superiority over themselves in these ingenious
works.

They employed another tool, made of itztli, or obsidian, a dark transparent mineral, exceedingly hard, found in
abundance in their hills. They made it into knives, razors, and their serrated swords. It took a keen edge, though soon
blunted. With this they wrought the various stones and alabasters employed in the construction of their public works
and principal dwellings. I shall defer a more particular account of these to the body of the narrative, and will only
add here, that the entrances and angles of the buildings were profusely ornamented with images, sometimes of their
fantastic deities, and frequently of animals. The latter were executed with great accuracy. “The former,” according to
Torquemada, “were the hideous reflection of their own souls. And it was not till after they had been converted to
Christianity, that they could model the true figure of a man.” The old chronicler’s facts are well founded, whatever we
may think of his reasons. The allegorical phantasms of his religion, no doubt, gave a direction to the Aztec artist, in
his delineation of the human figure; supplying him with an imaginary beauty in the personification of divinity, itself.
As these superstitions lost their hold on his mind, it opened to the influences of a purer taste; and, after the
Conquest, the Mexicans furnished many examples of correct, and some of beautiful portraiture.

Sculptured images were so numerous, that the foundations of the cathedral in the Plaza Mayor, the great square of
Mexico, are said to be entirely composed of them. This spot may, indeed, be regarded as the Aztec forum — the great
depository of the treasures of ancient sculpture, which now he hid in its bosom. Such monuments are spread all over the
capital, however, and a new cellar can hardly be dug, or foundation laid, without turning up some of the mouldering
relics of barbaric art. But they are little heeded, and, if not wantonly broken in pieces at once, are usually worked
into the rising wall, or supports of the new edifice! Two celebrated bas-reliefs of the last Montezuma and his father,
cut in the solid rock in the beautiful groves of Chapoltepec, were deliberately destroyed, as late as the last century,
by order of the government! The monuments of the barbarian meet with as little respect from civilised man, as those of
the civilised man from the barbarian.

The most remarkable piece of sculpture yet disinterred is the great calendar stone, noticed in the preceding
chapter. It consists of dark porphyry, and in its original dimensions, as taken from the quarry, is computed to have
weighed nearly fifty tons. It was transported from the mountains beyond Lake Chalco, a distance of many leagues, over a
broken country intersected by water-courses and canals. In crossing a bridge which traversed one of these latter, in
the capital, the supports gave way, and the huge mass was precipitated into the water, whence it was with difficulty
recovered. The fact, that so enormous a fragment of porphyry could be thus safely carried for leagues, in the face of
such obstacles, and without the aid of cattle — for the Aztecs had no animals of draught — suggests to us no mean ideas
of their mechanical skill, and of their machinery; and implies a degree of cultivation little inferior to that demanded
for the geometrical and astronomical science displayed in the inscriptions on this very stone.

The ancient Mexicans made utensils of earthenware for the ordinary purposes of domestic life, numerous specimens of
which still exist. They made cups and vases of a lackered or painted wood, impervious to wet, and gaudily coloured.
Their dyes were obtained from both mineral and vegetable substances. Among them was the rich crimson of the cochineal,
the modern rival of the famed Tyrian purple. It was introduced into Europe from Mexico, where the curious little insect
was nourished with great care on plantations of cactus, since fallen into neglect. The natives were thus enabled to
give a brilliant colouring to the webs, which were manufactured of every degree of fineness from the cotton raised in
abundance throughout the warmer regions of the country. They had the art, also, of interweaving with these the delicate
hair of rabbits and other animals, which made a cloth of great warmth as well as beauty, of a kind altogether original;
and on this they often laid a rich embroidery of birds, flowers, or some other fanciful device.

But the art in which they most delighted was their plumaje, or feather-work. With this they could produce all the
effect of a beautiful mosaic. The gorgeous plumage of the tropical birds, especially of the parrot tribe, afforded
every variety of colour; and the fine down of the humming-bird, which revelled in swarms among the honeysuckle bowers
of Mexico, supplied them with soft aerial tints that gave an exquisite finish to the picture. The feathers, pasted on a
fine cotton web, were wrought into dresses for the wealthy, hangings for apartments, and ornaments for the temples. No
one of the American fabries excited such admiration in Europe, whither numerous specimens were sent by the Conquerors.
It is to be regretted that so graceful an art should have been suffered to fall into decay.

There were no shops in Mexico, but the various manufactures and agricultural products were brought together for sale
in the great market-places of the principal cities. Fairs were held there every fifth day, and were thronged by a
numerous concourse of persons, who came to buy or sell from all the neighbouring country. A particular quarter was
allotted to each kind of article. The numerous transactions were conducted without confusion, and with entire regard to
justice, under the inspection of magistrates appointed for the purpose. The traffic was carried on partly by barter,
and partly by means of a regulated currency, of different values. This consisted of transparent quills of gold dust; of
bits of tin, cut in the form of a T; and of bags of cacao, containing a specified number of grains. “Blessed money,”
exclaims Peter Martyr, “which exempts its possessors from avarice, since it cannot be long hoarded, nor hidden under
ground!”

There did not exist in Mexico that distinction of castes found among the Egyptian and Asiatic nations. It was usual,
however, for the son to follow the occupation of his father. The different trades were arranged into something like
guilds; having each a particular district of the city appropriated to it, with its own chief, its own tutelar deity,
its peculiar festivals, and the like. Trade was held in avowed estimation by the Aztecs. “Apply thyself, my son,” was
the advice of an aged chief, “to agriculture, or to feather-work, or some other honourable calling. Thus did your
ancestors before you. Else, how would they have provided for themselves and their families? Never was it heard, that
nobility alone was able to maintain its possessor.” Shrewd maxims, that must have sounded somewhat strange in the ear
of a Spanish hidalgo!

But the occupation peculiarly respected was that of the merchant. It formed so important and singular a feature of
their social economy, as to merit a much more particular notice than it has received from historians. The Aztec
merchant was a sort of itinerant trader, who made his journeys to the remotest borders of Anahuac, and to the countries
beyond, carrying with him merchandise of rich stuffs, jewelry, slaves, and other valuable commodities. The slaves were
obtained at the great market of Azcapotzalco, not many leagues from the capital, where fairs were regularly held for
the sale of these unfortunate beings. They were brought thither by their masters, dressed in their gayest apparel, and
instructed to sing, dance, and display their little stock of personal accomplishments, so as to recommend themselves to
the purchaser. Slave-dealing was an honourable calling among the Aztecs.

With this rich freight, the merchant visited the different provinces, always bearing some present of value from his
own sovereign to their chiefs, and usually receiving others in return, with a permission to trade. Should this be
denied him, or should he meet with indignity or violence, he had the means of resistance in his power. He performed his
journeys with a number of companions of his own rank, and a large body of inferior attendants who were employed to
transport the goods. Fifty or sixty pounds were the usual load for a man. The whole caravan went armed, and so well
provided against sudden hostilities, that they could make good their defence, if necessary, till reinforced from home.
In one instance, a body of these militant traders stood a siege of four years in the town of Ayotlan, which they
finally took from the enemy. Their own government, however, was always prompt to embark in a war on this ground,
finding it a very convenient pretext for extending the Mexican empire. It was not unusual to allow the merchants to
raise levies themselves, which were placed under their command. It was, moreover, very common for the prince to employ
the merchants as a sort of spies, to furnish him information of the state of the countries through which they passed,
and the dispositions of the inhabitants towards himself.

Thus their sphere of action was much enlarged beyond that of a humble trader, and they acquired a high consideration
in the body politic. They were allowed to assume insignia and devices of their own. Some of their number composed what
is called by the Spanish writers a council of finance; at least, this was the case in Tezcuco. They were much consulted
by the monarch, who had some of them constantly near his person; addressing them by the title of “uncle,” which may
remind one of that of primo, or “cousin,” by which a grandee of Spain is saluted by his sovereign. They were allowed to
have their own courts, in which civil and criminal cases, not excepting capital, were determined; so that they formed
an independent community, as it were, of themselves. And, as their various traffic supplied them with abundant stores
of wealth, they enjoyed many of the most essential advantages of an hereditary aristocracy.

That trade should prove the path to eminent political preferment in a nation but partially civilised, where the
names of soldier and priest are usually the only titles to respect, is certainly an anomaly in history. It forms some
contrast to the standard of the more polished monarchies of the Old World, in which rank is supposed to be less
dishonoured by a life of idle ease or frivolous pleasure, than by those active pursuits which promote equally the
prosperity of the state and of the individual. If civilisation corrects many prejudices, it must be allowed that it
creates others.

We shall be able to form a better idea of the actual refinement of the natives, by penetrating into their domestic
life, and observing the intercourse between the sexes. We have fortunately the means of doing this. We shall there find
the ferocious Aztec frequently displaying all the sensibility of a cultivated nature; consoling his friends under
affliction, or congratulating them on their good fortune, as on occasion of a marriage, or of the birth or the baptism
of a child, when he was punctilious in his visits, bringing presents of costly dresses and ornaments, or the more
simple offering of flowers, equally indicative of his sympathy. The visits, at these times, though regulated with all
the precision of Oriental courtesy, were accompanied by expressions of the most cordial and affectionate regard.

The discipline of children, especially at the public schools, as stated in a previous chapter, was exceedingly
severe. But after she had come to a mature age, the Aztec maiden was treated by her parents with a tenderness from
which all reserve seemed banished. In the counsels to a daughter about to enter into life, they conjured her to
preserve simplicity in her manners and conversation, uniform neatness in her attire, with strict attention to personal
cleanliness. They inculcated modesty as the great ornament of a woman, and implicit reverence for her husband;
softening their admonitions by such endearing epithets, as showed the fulness of a parent’s love.

Polygamy was permitted among the Mexicans, though chiefly confined, probably, to the wealthiest classes. And the
obligations of the marriage vow, which was made with all the formality of a religious ceremony, were fully recognised,
and impressed on both parties. The women are described by the Spaniards as pretty, unlike their unfortunate descendants
of the present day, though with the same serious and rather melancholy cast of countenance. Their long black hair,
covered, in some parts of the country, by a veil made of the fine web of the pita, might generally be seen wreathed
with flowers, or among the richer people, with strings of precious stones, and pearls from the Gulf of California. They
appear to have been treated with much consideration by their husbands; and passed their time in indolent tranquillity,
or in such feminine occupations as spinning, embroidery and the like; while their maidens beguiled the hours by the
rehearsal of traditionary tales and ballads.

The woman partook equally with the men of social festivities and entertainments. These were often conducted on a
large scale, both as regards the number of guests and the costliness of the preparations. Numerous attendants, of both
sexes, waited at the banquet. The halls were scented with perfumes, and the courts strewed with odoriferous herb and
flowers, which were distributed in profusion among the guests, as they arrived. Cotton napkins and ewers of water were
placed before them, as they took their seats at the board; for the venerable ceremony of ablution, before and after
eating, was punctiliously observed by the Aztecs. Tobacco was then offered to the company, in pipes, mixed up with
aromatic substances, or in the form of cigars, inserted in tubes of tortoise-shell or silver. They compressed the
nostrils with the fingers, while they inhaled the smoke, which they frequently swallowed. Whether the women, who sat
apart from the men at table, were allowed the indulgence of the fragrant weed as in the most polished circles of modern
Mexico, is not told us. It is a curious fact, that the Aztecs also took the dried leaf in the pulverised form of
snuff.

The table was well provided with substantial meats, especially game; among which the most conspicuous was the
turkey, erroneously supposed, as its name imports, to have come originally from the East. These more solid dishes were
flanked by others of vegetables and fruits, of every delicious variety found on the North American continent. The
different viands were prepared in various ways, with delicate sauces and seasoning, of which the Mexicans were very
fond. Their palate was still further regaled by confections and pastry, for which their maize-flour and sugar supplied
ample materials. One other dish, of a disgusting nature, was sometimes added to the feast, especially when the
celebration partook of a religious character. On such occasions a slave was sacrificed, and his flesh elaborately
dressed, formed one of the chief ornaments of the banquet. Cannibalism, in the guise of an Epicurean science, becomes
even the more revolting.

The meats were kept warm by chafing-dishes. The table was ornamented with vases of silver, and sometimes gold, of
delicate workmanship. The drinking-cups and spoons were of the same costly materials, and likewise of tortoise-shell.
The favourite beverage was the chocolatl, flavoured with vanilla and different spices. They had a way of preparing the
froth of it, so as to make it almost solid enough to be eaten, and took it cold. The fermented juice of the maguey,
with a mixture of sweets and acids, supplied also various agreeable drinks of different degrees of strength, and formed
the chief beverage of the elder part of the company.

As soon as they had finished their repast, the young people rose from the table, to close the festivities of the day
with dancing. They danced gracefully, to the sound of various instruments, accompanying their movements with chants of
a pleasing, though somewhat plaintive character. The older guests continued at table, sipping pulque, and gossiping
about other times, till the virtues of the exhilarating beverage put them in good humour with their own. Intoxication
was not rare in this part of the company, and, what is singular, was excused in them, though severely punished in the
younger.

The Aztec character was perfectly original and unique. It was made up of incongruities apparently irreconcilable. It
blended into one the marked peculiarities of different nations, not only of the same place of civilisation, but as far
removed from each other as the extremes of barbarism and refinement. It may find a fitting parallel in their own
wonderful climate, capable of producing, on a few square leagues of surface, the boundless variety of vegetable forms
which belong to the frozen regions of the North, the temperate zone of Europe, and the burning skies of Arabia and
Hindostan!

Chapter VI

THE TEZCUCANS— THEIR GOLDEN AGE— ACCOMPLISHED PRINCES— DECLINE OF THEIR MONARCHY

THE reader would gather but an imperfect notion of the civilisation of Anahuac, without some account of the
Acolhuans, or Tezcucans, as they are usually cared; a nation of the same great family with the Aztecs, whom they
rivalled in power, and surpassed in intellectual culture and the arts of social refinement. Fortunately, we have ample
materials for this in the records left by Ixtlilxochitl, a lineal descendant of the royal line of Tezcuco, who
flourished in the century of the Conquest. With every opportunity for information he combined much industry and talent,
and, if his narrative bears the high colouring of one who would revive the faded glories of an ancient, but dilapidated
house, he has been uniformly commended for his fairness and integrity, and has been followed without misgiving by such
Spanish writers as could have access to his manuscripts. I shall confine myself to the prominent features of the two
reigns which may be said to embrace the golden age of Tezcuco; without attempting to weigh the probability of the
details, which I will leave to be settled by the reader, according to the measure of his faith.

The Acolhuans came into the Valley, as we have seen, about the close of the twelfth century, and built their capital
of Tezcuco on the eastern borders of the lake, opposite to Mexico. From this point they gradually spread themselves
over the northern portion of Anahuac, when their career was cheeked by an invasion of a kindred race, the Tepanecs,
who, after a desperate struggle, succeeded in taking their city, slaying their monarch, and entirely subjugating his
kingdom. This event took place about 1418; and the young prince, Nezahualcoyotl, the heir to the crown, then fifteen
years old, saw his father butchered before his eyes, while he himself lay concealed among the friendly branches of a
tree, which overshadowed the spot. His subsequent history is full of romantic daring and perilous escapes.

Not long after his flight from the field of his father’s blood, the Tezcucan prince fell into the hands of his
enemy, was borne off in triumph to his city, and was thrown into a dungeon. He effected his escape, however, through
the connivance of the governor of the fortress, an old servant of his family, who took the place of the royal fugitive,
and paid for his loyalty with his life. He was at length permitted, through the intercession of the reigning family in
Mexico, which was allied to him, to retire to that capital, and subsequently to his own, where he found a shelter in
his ancestral palace. Here he remained unmolested for eight years, pursuing his studies under an old preceptor, who had
had the care of his early youth, and who instructed him in the various duties befitting his princely station.

At the end of this period the Tepanec usurper died, bequeathing his empire to his son, Maxtla, a man of fierce and
suspicious temper. Nezahualcoyotl hastened to pay his obeisance to him, on his accession. But the tyrant refused to
receive the little present of flowers which he laid at his feet, and turned his back on him in presence of his
chieftains. One of his attendants, friendly to the young prince, admonished him to provide for his own safety, by
withdrawing, as speedily as possible, from the palace, where his life was in danger. He lost no time, consequently, in
retreating from the inhospitable court, and returned to Tezcuco. Maxtla, however, was bent on his destruction. He saw
with jealous eye the opening talents and popular manners of his rival, and the favour he was daily winning from his
ancient subjects.

He accordingly laid a plan for making away with him at an evening entertainment. It was defeated by the vigilance of
the prince’s tutor, who contrived to mislead the assassins, and to substitute another victim in the place of his pupil.
The baffled tyrant now threw off all disguise, and sent a strong party of soldiers to Tezcuco, with orders to enter the
palace, seize the person of Nezahualcoyotl, and slay him on the spot. The prince, who became acquainted with the plot
through the watchfulness of his preceptor, instead of flying, as he was counselled, resolved to await his enemy. They
found him playing at ball, when they arrived, in the court of his palace. He received them courteously and invited them
in, to take some refreshments after their journey. While they were occupied in this way, he passed into an adjoining
saloon, which excited no suspicion, as he was still visible through the open doors by which the apartments communicated
with each other. A burning censer stood in the passage, and, as it was fed by the attendants, threw up such clouds of
incense as obscured his movements from the soldiers. Under this friendly veil he succeeded in making his escape by a
secret passage, which communicated with a large earthen pipe formerly used to bring water to the palace. Here he
remained till nightfall, when, taking advantage of the obscurity, he found his way into the suburbs, and sought a
shelter in the cottage of one of his father’s vassals.

The Tepanec monarch, enraged at this repeated disappointment, ordered instant pursuit. A price was set on the head
of the royal fugitive. Whoever should take him, dead or alive, was promised, however humble his degree, the hand of a
noble lady, and an ample domain along with it. Troops of armed men were ordered to scour the country in every
direction. In the course of the search, the cottage in which the prince had taken refuge was entered. But he
fortunately escaped detection by being hid under a heap of maguey fibres used for manufacturing cloth. As this was no
longer a proper place for concealment, he sought a retreat in the mountainous and woody district lying between the
borders of his own state and Tlascala.

Here he led a wretched wandering life, exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather, hiding himself in deep
thickets and caverns, and stealing out at night to satisfy the cravings of appetite; while he was kept in constant
alarm by the activity of his pursuers, always hovering on his track. On one occasion he sought refuge from them among a
small party of soldiers, who proved friendly to him, and concealed him in a large drum around which they were dancing.
At another time, he was just able to turn the crest of a hill, as his enemies were climbing it on the other side, when
he fell in with a girl who was reaping chian — a Mexican plant, the seed of which was much used in the drinks of the
country. He persuaded her to cover him up with the stalks she had been cutting. When his pursuers came up, and inquired
if she had seen the fugitive, the girl coolly answered that she had, and pointed out a path as the one he had taken.
Notwithstanding the high rewards offered, Nezahualcoyotl seems to have incurred no danger from treachery, such was the
general attachment felt to himself and his house. “Would you not deliver up the prince, if he came in your way?” he
inquired of a young peasant who was unacquainted with his person. “Not I,” replied the other. “What, not for a fair
lady’s hand, and a rich dowry beside?” rejoined the prince. At which the other only shook his head and laughed. On more
than one occasion, his faithful people submitted to torture, and even to lose their lives, rather than disclose the
place of his retreat.

However gratifying such proofs of loyalty might be to his feelings, the situation of the prince in these mountain
solitudes became every day more distressing. It gave a still keener edge to his own sufferings to witness those of the
faithful followers who chose to accompany him in his wanderings. “Leave me,” he would say to them, “to my fate! Why
should you throw away your own lives for one whom fortune is never weary of persecuting?” Most of the great Tezcucan
chiefs had consulted their interests by a timely adhesion to the usurper. But some still clung to their prince,
preferring proscription, and death itself, rather than desert him in his extremity.

In the meantime, his friends at a distance were active in measures for his relief. The oppressions of Maxtla, and
his growing empire, had caused general alarm in the surrounding states, who recalled the mild rule of the Tezcucan
princes. A coalition was formed, a plan of operations concerted, and, on the day appointed for a general rising,
Nezahualcoyotl found himself at the head of a force sufficiently strong to face his Tepanec adversaries. An engagement
came on, in which the latter were totally discomfited; and the victorious prince, receiving everywhere on his route the
homage of his joyful subjects, entered his capital, not like a proscribed outcast, but as the rightful heir, and saw
himself once more enthroned in the halls of his fathers.

Soon after, he united his forces with the Mexicans, long disgusted with the arbitrary conduct of Maxtla. The allied
powers, after a series of bloody engagements with the usurper, routed him under the walls of his own capital. He fled
to the baths, whence he was dragged out, and sacrificed with the usual cruel ceremonies of the Aztecs; the royal city
of Azcapotzalco was razed to the ground, and the wasted territory was henceforth reserved as the great slavemarket for
the nations of Anahuac. These events were succeeded by the remarkable league among the three powers of Tezcuco, Mexico,
and Tlacopan, of which some account has been given in a previous chapter.

The first measure of Nezahualcoyotl, on returning to his dominions, was a general amnesty. It was his maxim, “that a
monarch might punish, but revenge was unworthy of him.” In the present instance, he was averse even to punish, and not
only freely pardoned his rebel nobles, but conferred on some, who had most deeply offended, posts of honour and
confidence. Such conduct was doubtless politic, especially as their alienation was owing, probably, much more to fear
of the usurper, than to any disaffection towards himself. But there are some acts of policy which a magnanimous spirit
only can execute.

The restored monarch next set about repairing the damages sustained under the late misrule, and reviving, or rather
remodelling the various departments of government. He framed a concise, but comprehensive, code of laws, so well
suited, it was thought, to the exigencies of the times, that it was adopted as their own by the two other members of
triple alliance.

He divided the burden of government among a number of departments, as the council of war, the council of finance,
the council of justice. This last was a court of supreme authority, both in civil and criminal matters, receiving
appeals from the lower tribunals of the provinces, which were obliged to make a full report, every four months, or
eighty days, of their own proceedings to this higher judicature. In all these bodies, a certain number of citizens were
allowed to have seats with the nobles and professional dignitaries. There was, however, another body, a council of
state, for aiding the king in the despatch of business, and advising him in matters of importance, which was drawn
altogether from the highest order of chiefs. It consisted of fourteen members; and they had seats provided for them at
the royal table.

Lastly, there was an extraordinary tribunal, called the council of music, but which, differing from the import of
its name, was devoted to the encouragement of science and art. Works on astronomy, chronology, history, or any other
science, were required to be submitted to its judgment before they could be made public. This censorial power was of
some moment, at least with regard to the historical department, where the wilful perversion of truth was made a capital
offence by the bloody code of Nezahualcoyotl. Yet a Tezcucan author must have been a bungler, who could not elude a
conviction under the cloudy veil of hieroglyphics. This body, which was drawn from the best instructed persons in the
kingdom, with little regard to rank, had supervision of all the productions of art, and of the nicer fabrics. It
decided on the qualifications of the professors in the various branches of science, on the fidelity of their
instructions to their pupils, the deficiency of which was severely punished, and it instituted examinations of these
latter. In short it was a general board of education for the country. On stated days, historical compositions, and
poems treating of moral or traditional topics, were recited before it by their authors. Seats were provided for the
three crowned heads of the empire, who deliberated with the other members on the respective merits of the pieces, and
distributed prizes of value to the successful competitors.

The influence of this academy must have been most propitious to the capital, which became the nursery not only of
such sciences as could be compassed by the scholarship of the period, but of various useful and ornamental arts. Its
historians, orators, and poets were celebrated throughout the country. Its archives, for which accommodations were
provided in the royal palace, were stored with the records of primitive ages. Its idiom, more polished than the
Mexican, was indeed the purest of all the Nahuatlac dialects; and continued, long after the Conquest, to be that in
which the best productions of the native races were composed. Tezcuco claimed the glory of being the Athens of the
Western World.

Among the most illustrious of her bards was the emperor himself — for the Tezcucan writers claim this title for
their chief, as head of the imperial alliance. He, doubtless, appeared as a competitor before that very academy where
he so often sat as a critic. But the hours of the Tezcucan monarch were not all passed in idle dalliance with the Muse,
nor in the sober contemplations of philosophy, as at a later period. In the freshness of youth and early manhood, he
led the allied armies in their annual expeditions, which were certain to result in a wider extent of territory to the
empire. In the intervals of peace he fostered those productive arts which are the surest sources of public prosperity.
He encouraged agriculture above all; and there was scarcely a spot so rude, or a steep so inaccessible, as not to
confess the power of cultivation. The land was covered with a busy population, and towns and cities sprung up in places
since deserted, or dwindled into miserable villages.

From resources thus enlarged by conquest and domestic industry, the monarch drew the means for the large consumption
of his own numerous household, and for the costly works which he executed for the convenience and embellishment of the
capital. He fined it with stately edifices for his nobles, whose constant attendance he was anxious to secure at his
court. He erected a magnificent pile of buildings which might serve both for a royal residence and for the public
offices. It extended, from east to west, twelve hundred and thirty-four yards; and from north to south, nine hundred
and seventy-eight. It was encompassed by a wall of unburnt bricks and cement, six feet wide and nine high for one half
of the circumference, and fifteen feet high for the other half. Within this enclosure were two courts. The outer one
was used as the great marketplace of the city; and continued to be so until long after the Conquest. The interior court
was surrounded by the council chambers and halls of justice. There were also accommodations there. for the foreign
ambassadors; and a spacious saloon, with apartments: opening into it, for men of science and poets, who pursued their
studies in this retreat, or met together to hold converse under its marble porticos. In this quarter, also, were kept
the public archives; which fared better under the Indian dynasty than they have since under their European
successors.

Adjoining this court were the apartments of the king, including those for the royal harem, as liberally supplied
with beauties as that of an eastern sultan. Their walls were incrusted with alabasters, and richly tinted stucco, or
hung with gorgeous tapestries of variegated feather-work. They led through long arcades, and through intricate
labyrinths of shrubbery, into gardens, where baths and sparkling fountains were overshadowed by tall groves of cedar
and cypress. The basins of water were well stocked with fish of various kinds, and the aviaries with birds glowing in
all the gaudy plumage of the tropics. Many birds and animals, which could not be obtained alive, were represented in
gold and silver so skillfully as to have furnished the great naturalist Hernandez with models.

Accommodations on a princely scale were provided for the sovereigns of Mexico and Tlacopan, when they visited the
court. The whole of this lordly pile contained three hundred apartments, some of them fifty yards square. The height of
the building is not mentioned. It was probably not great; but supplied the requisite room by the immense extent of
ground which it covered. The interior was doubtless constructed of fight materials, especially of the rich woods,
which, in that country, are remarkable, when polished, for the brilliancy and variety of their colours. That the more
solid materials of stone and stucco were also liberally employed, is proved by the remains at the present day; remains
which have furnished an inexhaustible quarry for the churches and other edifices since erected by the Spaniards on the
site of the ancient city.

We are not informed of the time occupied in building this palace; but two hundred thousand workmen, it is said, were
employed on it! However this may be, it is certain that the Tezcucan monarchs, like those of Asia, and ancient Egypt,
had the control of immense masses of men, and would sometimes turn the whole population of a conquered city, including
the women, into the public works. — The most gigantic monuments of architecture which the world has witnessed would
never have been reared by the hands of freemen.

Adjoining the palace were buildings for the king’s children, who, by his various wives, amounted to no less than
sixty sons and fifty daughters. Here they were instructed in all the exercises and accomplishments suited to their
station; comprehending, what would scarcely find a place in a royal education on the other side of the Atlantic — the
arts of working in metals, jewelry, and feather-mosaic. Once in every four months, the whole household, not excepting
the youngest, and including all the officers and attendants on the king’s person, assembled in a grand saloon of the
palace, to listen to a discourse from an orator, probably one of the priesthood. The princes, on this occasion, were
all dressed in nequen, the coarsest manufacture of the country. The preacher began by enlarging on the obligations of
morality, and of respect for the gods, especially important in persons whose rank gave such additional weight to
example. He occasionally seasoned his homily with a pertinent application to his audience, if any member of it had been
guilty of a notorious delinquency. from this wholesome admonition the monarch himself was not exempted, and the orator
boldly reminded him of his paramount duty to show respect for his own laws. The king, so far from taking umbrage,
received the lesson with humility: and the audience, we are assured, were often melted into tears by the eloquence of
the preacher.

Nezahualcoyotl’s fondness for magnificence was shown in his numerous villas, which were embellished with all that
could make a rural retreat delightful. His favourite residence was at Tezcotzinco; a conical hill about two leagues
from the capital. It was laid out in terraces, or hanging gardens, having a flight of steps five hundred and twenty in
number, many of them hewn in the natural porphyry. In the garden on the summit was a reservoir of water, fed by an
aqueduct that was carried over hill and valley, for several miles, on huge buttresses of masonry. A large rock stood in
the midst of this basin, sculptured with the hieroglyphics representing the years of Nezahualcoyotl’s reign and his
principal achievements in each. On a lower level were three other reservoirs, in each of which stood a marble statue of
a woman, emblematic of the three states of the empire. Another tank contained a winged lion, cut out of the solid rock,
bearing in his mouth the portrait of the emperor. His likeness had been executed in gold, wood, feather-work, and
stone, but this was the only one which pleased him.

From these copious basins the water was distributed in numerous channels through the gardens, or was made to tumble
over the rocks in cascades, shedding refreshing dews on the flowers and odoriferous shrubs below. In the depths of this
fragrant wilderness, marble porticos and pavilions were erected, and baths excavated in the solid porphyry. The visitor
descended by steps cut in the living stone, and polished so bright as to reflect like mirrors. Towards the base of the
hill, in the midst of cedar groves, whose gigantic branches threw a refreshing coolness over the verdure in the
sultriest seasons of the year, rose the royal villa, with its light arcades and airy halls, drinking in the sweet
perfumes of the gardens. Here the monarch often retired, to throw off the burden of state, and refresh his wearied
spirits in the society of his favourite wives, reposing during the noontide heats in the embowering shades of his
paradise, or mingling, in the cool of the evening, in their festive sports and dances. Here he entertained his imperial
brothers of Mexico and Tlacopan, and followed the hardier pleasures of the chase in the noble woods that stretched for
miles around his villa, flourishing in all their primeval majesty. Here, too, he often repaired in the latter days of
his life, when age had tempered ambition and cooled the ardour of his blood, to pursue in solitude the studies of
philosophy and gather wisdom from meditation.

It was not his passion to hoard. He dispensed his revenues munificently, seeking out poor, but meritorious objects,
on whom to bestow them. He was particularly mindful of disabled soldiers, and those who had in any way sustained loss
in the public service; and, in case of their death, extended assistance to their surviving families. Open mendicity was
a thing he would never tolerate, but chastised it with exemplary rigour.

It would be incredible, that a man of the enlarged mind and endowments of Nezahualcoyotl should acquiesce in the
sordid superstitions of his countrymen, and still more in the sanguinary rites borrowed by them from the Aztecs. In
truth, his humane temper shrunk from these cruel ceremonies, and he strenuously endeavoured to recall his people to the
more pure and simple worship of the ancient Toltecs. A circumstance produced a temporary change in his conduct. He had
been married some years, but was not blessed with issue. The priests represented that it was owing to his neglect of
the gods of his country, and that his only remedy was to propitiate them by human sacrifice. The king reluctantly
consented, and the altars once more smoked with the blood of slaughtered captives. But it was all in vain; and he
indignantly exclaimed, “These idols of wood and stone can neither hear nor feel; much less could they make the heavens
and the earth, and man, the lord of it. These must be the work of the all-powerful, unknown God, Creator of the
universe, on whom alone I must rely for consolation and support.”

He then withdrew to his rural palace of Tezcotzinco, where he remained forty days, fasting and praying at stated
hours, and offering up no other sacrifice than the sweet incense of copal, and aromatic herbs and gums. At the
expiration of this time, he is said to have been comforted by a vision assuring him of the success of his petition. At
all events, such proved to be the fact; and this was followed by the cheering intelligence of the triumph of his arms
in a quarter where he had lately experienced some humiliating reverses.

Greatly strengthened in his former religious convictions, he now openly professed his faith, and was more earnest to
wean his subjects from their degrading superstitions, and to substitute nobler and more spiritual conceptions of the
Deity. He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, and on the summit a tower nine stories high, to represent the
nine heavens; a tenth was surmounted by a roof painted black, and profusely gilded with stars on the outside, and
incrusted with metals and precious stones within. He dedicated this to “the unknown God, the Cause of causes.” It seems
probable, from the emblem on the tower, as well as from the complexion of his verses, as we shall see, that he mingled
with his reverence for the Supreme the astral worship which existed among the Toltecs. Various musical instruments were
placed on the top of the tower, and the sound of them, accompanied by the ringing of a sonorous metal struck by a
mallet, summoned the worshippers to prayers at regular seasons. No image was allowed in the edifice, as unsuited to the
“invisible God”; and the people were expressly prohibited from profaning the altars with blood, or any other sacrifice
than that of the perfume of flowers and sweet-scented gums.

The remainder of his days was chiefly spent in his delicious solitudes of Tezcotzinco, where he devoted himself to
astronomical and, probably, astrological studies, and to meditation on his immortal destiny — giving utterance to his
feelings in songs, or rather hymns, of much solemnity and pathos. At length, about the year 1470, Nezahualcoyotl, full
of years and honours, felt himself drawing near his end. Almost half a century had elapsed since he mounted the throne
of Tezcuco. He had found his kingdom dismembered by faction, and bowed to the dust beneath the yoke of a foreign
tyrant. He had broken that yoke; and breathed new life into the nation, renewed its ancient institutions, extended wide
its domain; had seen it flourishing in all the activity of trade and agriculture, gathering strength from its enlarged
resources, and daily advancing higher and higher in the great march of civilisation All this he had seen, and might
fairly attribute no small portion of it to his own wise and beneficent rule. His long and glorious day was now drawing
to its close; and he contemplated the event with the same serenity which he had shown under the clouds of its morning
and in its meridian splendour.

A short time before his death, he gathered around him those of his children in whom he most confided, his chief
counsellors, the ambassadors of Mexico and Tlacopan, and his little son, the heir to the crown, his only offspring by
the queen. He was then not eight years old; but had already given, as far as so tender a blossom might, the rich
promise of future excellence.

After tenderly embracing the child, the dying monarch threw over him the robes of sovereignty. He then gave audience
to the ambassadors, and when they had retired, made the boy repeat the substance of the conversation. He followed this
by such counsels as were suited to his comprehension, and which when remembered through the long vista of after years,
would serve as lights to guide him in his government of the kingdom. He besought him not to neglect the worship of “the
unknown God,” regretting that he himself had been unworthy to know him, and intimating his conviction that the time
would come when he should be known and worshipped throughout the land.

He next addressed himself to that one of his sons in whom he Placed the greatest trust, and whom he had selected as
the guardian of the realm. “From this hour,” he said to him, “you will fill the place that I have filled, of father to
this child; you will teach him to live as he ought; and by your counsels he will rule over the empire. Stand in his
place, and be his guide, till he shall be of age to govern for himself.” Then, turning to his other children, he
admonished them to live united with one another, and to show all loyalty to their prince, who, though a child, already
manifested a discretion far above his years. “Be true to him,” he added, “and he will maintain you in your rights and
dignities.”

Feeling his end approaching, he exclaimed, “Do not bewail me with idle lamentations. But sing the song of gladness,
and show a courageous spirit, that the nations I have subdued may not believe you disheartened, but may feel that each
one of you is strong enough to keep them in obedience!” The undaunted spirit of the monarch shone forth even in the
agonies of death. That stout heart, however, melted as he took leave of his children and friends, weeping tenderly over
them, while he bade each a last adieu. When they had withdrawn, he ordered the officers of the palace to allow no one
to enter it again. Soon after he expired, in the seventy-second year of his age, and the forty-third of his reign.

Thus died the greatest monarch and, perhaps, the best who ever sat upon an Indian throne. His character is
delineated with tolerable impartiality by his kinsman, the Tezcucan chronicler. “He was wise, valiant, liberal; and,
when we consider the magnanimity of his soul, the grandeur and success of his enterprises, his deep policy, as well as
daring, we must admit him to have far surpassed every other prince and captain of this New World. He had few failings
himself, and rigorously punished those of others. He preferred the public to his private interest; was most charitable
in his nature, often buying articles at double their worth of poor and honest persons, and giving them away again to
the sick and infirm. In seasons of scarcity he was particularly bountiful, remitting the taxes of his vassals, and
supplying their wants from the royal granaries. He put no faith in the idolatrous worship of the country. He was well
instructed in moral science, and sought, above all things, to obtain light for knowing the true God. He believed in one
God only, the Creator of heaven and earth, by whom we have our being, who never revealed himself to us in human form,
nor in any other; with whom the souls of the virtuous are to dwell after death, while the wicked will suffer pains
unspeakable. He invoked the Most High, as Him by whom we live, and ‘Who has all things in himself.’ He recognised the
Sun for his father, and the Earth for his mother. He taught his children not to confide in idols, and only to conform
to the outward worship of them from deference to public opinion. If he could not entirely abolish human sacrifices,
derived from the Aztecs, he, at least, restricted them to slaves and captives.”

I have occupied so much space with this illustrious prince that but little remains for his son and successor,
Nezahualpilli. I have thought better, in our narrow limits, to present a complete view of a single epoch, the most
interesting in the Tezcucan annals, than to spread the inquiries over a broader, but comparatively barren field. Yet
Nezahualpilli, the heir to the crown, was a remarkable person, and his reign contains many incidents, which I regret to
be obliged to pass over in silence.

Nezahualpilli resembled his father in his passion for astronomical studies, and is said to have had an observatory
on one of his palaces. He was devoted to war in his youth, but, as he advanced in years, resigned himself to a more
indolent way of life, and sought his chief amusement in the pursuit of his favourite science, or in the soft pleasures
of the sequestered gardens of Tezcotzinco. This quiet life was ill suited to the turbulent temper of the times, and of
his Mexican rival, Montezuma. The distant provinces fell off from their allegiance; the army relaxed its discipline;
disaffection crept into its ranks; and the wily Montezuma, partly by violence, and partly by stratagems unworthy of a
king, succeeded in plundering his brother monarch of some of his most valuable domains. Then it was that he arrogated
to himself the title and supremacy of emperor, hitherto borne by the Tezcucan princes, as head of the alliance. Such is
the account given by the historians of that nation, who in this way, explain the acknowledged superiority of the Aztec
sovereign, both in territory and consideration, on the landing of the Spaniards.

These misfortunes pressed heavily on the spirits of Nezahualpilli. Their effect was increased by certain gloomy
prognostics of a near calamity which was to overwhelm the country. He withdrew to his retreat, to brood in secret over
his sorrows. His health rapidly declined; and in the year 1515, at the age of fifty-two, he sunk into the grave; happy,
at least, that, by his timely death, he escaped witnessing the fulfilment of his own predictions, in the ruin of his
country, and the extinction of the Indian dynasties, for ever.

In reviewing the brief sketch here presented of the Tezcucan monarchy, we are strongly impressed with the conviction
of its superiority, in all the great features of civilisation, over the rest of Anahuac. The Mexicans showed a similar
proficiency, no doubt, in the mechanic arts, and even in mathematical science. But in the science of government, in
legislation, in the speculative doctrines of a religious nature, in the more elegant pursuits of poetry, eloquence, and
whatever depended on refinement of taste and a polished idiom, they confessed themselves inferior, by resorting to
their rivals for instruction, and citing their works as the masterpieces of their tongue. The best histories, the best
poems, the best code of laws, the purest dialect, were all allowed to be Tezcucan.

What was the actual amount of the Tezcucan civilisation, it is not easy to determine, with the imperfect light
afforded us. It was certainly far below anything which the word conveys, measured by a European standard. In some of
the arts, and in any walk of science, they could only have made, as it were, a beginning. But they had begun in the
right way, and already showed a refinement in sentiment and manners, a capacity for receiving instruction, which, under
good auspices, might have led them on to indefinite improvement. Unhappily, they were fast falling under the dominion
of the warlike Aztecs. And that people repaid the benefits received from their more polished neighbours by imparting to
them their own ferocious superstition, which, falling like a mildew on the land, would soon have blighted its rich
blossoms of promise, and turned even its fruits to dust and ashes.

BOOK II:

Discovery of Mexico

Chapter I [1516–1518]

IN the beginning of the sixteenth century, Spain occupied perhaps the most prominent position on the theatre of
Europe. The numerous states, into which she had been so long divided, were consolidated into one monarchy. The Moslem
crescent, after reigning there for eight centuries, was no longer seen on her borders. The authority of the crown did
not, as in later times, overshadow the inferior orders of the state. The people enjoyed the inestimable privilege of
political representation, and exercised it with manly independence. The nation at large could boast as great a degree
of constitutional freedom as any other, at that time, in Christendom. Under a system of salutary laws and an equitable
administration, domestic tranquillity was secured, public credit established, trade, manufactures, and even the more
elegant arts, began to flourish; while a higher education called forth the first blossoms of that literature, which was
to ripen into so rich a harvest, before the close of the century. Arms abroad kept pace with arts at home. Spain found
her empire suddenly enlarged, by important acquisitions, both in Europe and Africa, while a New World beyond the waters
poured into her lap treasures of countless wealth, and opened an unbounded field for honourable enterprise.

Such was the condition of the kingdom at the close of the long and glorious reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, when on
the 23rd of January, 1516, the sceptre passed into the hands of their daughter Joanna, or rather their grandson,
Charles the Fifth, who alone ruled the monarchy during the long and imbecile existence of his unfortunate mother.
During the two years following Ferdinand’s death, the regency, in the absence of Charles, was held by Cardinal Ximenes,
a man whose intrepidity, extraordinary talents, and capacity for great enterprises, were accompanied by a haughty
spirit, which made him too indifferent as to the means of their execution. His administration, therefore,
notwithstanding the uprightness of his intentions, was, from his total disregard of forms, unfavourable to
constitutional liberty; for respect for forms is an essential element of freedom. With all his faults, however, Ximenes
was a Spaniard; and the object he had at heart was the good of his country.

It was otherwise on the arrival of Charles, who, after a long absence, came as a foreigner into the land of his
fathers. (November, 1517.) His manners, sympathies, even his language, were foreign, for he spoke the Castilian with
difficulty. He knew little of his native country, of the character of the people or their institutions. He seemed to
care still less for them; while his natural reserve precluded that freedom of communication which might have
counteracted, to some extent at least, the errors of education. In everything, in short, he was a foreigner; and
resigned himself to the direction of his Flemish counsellors with a docility that gave little augury of his future
greatness.

On his entrance into Castile, the young monarch was accompanied by a swarm of courtly sycophants, who settled, like
locusts, on every place of profit and honour throughout the kingdom. A Fleming was made grand chancellor of Castile;
another Fleming was placed in the archiepiscopal see of Toledo. They even ventured to profane the sanctity of the
cortes by intruding themselves on its deliberations. Yet that body did not tamely submit to these usurpations, but gave
vent to its indignation in tones becoming the representatives of a free people.

The same pestilent foreign influence was felt, though much less sensibly, in the Colonial administration. This had
been placed, in the preceding reign, under the immediate charge of the two great tribunals, the Council of the Indies,
and the Casa de Contratacion, or India House at Seville. It was their business to further the progress of discovery,
watch over the infant settlements, and adjust the disputes, which grew up in them. But the licences granted to private
adventurers did more for the cause of discovery than the patronage of the crown or its officers. The long peace,
enjoyed with slight interruption by Spain in the early part of the sixteenth century, was most auspicious for this; and
the restless cavalier, who could no longer win laurels on the fields of Africa and Europe, turned with eagerness to the
brilliant career opened to him beyond the ocean.

It is difficult for those of our time, as familiar from childhood with the most remote places on the globe as with
those in their own neighbourhood, to picture to themselves the feelings of the men who lived in the sixteenth century.
The dread mystery, which had so long hung over the great deep, had indeed been removed. It was no longer beset with the
same undefined horrors as when Columbus launched his bold bark on its dark and unknown waters. A new and glorious world
had been thrown open. But as to the precise spot where that world lay, its extent, its history, whether it were island
or continent — of all this, they had very vague and confused conceptions. Many, in their ignorance, blindly adopted the
erroneous conclusion into which the great Admiral had been led by his superior science — that the new countries were a
part of Asia; and, as the mariner wandered among the Bahamas, or steered his caravel across the Caribbean seas, he
fancied he was inhaling the rich odours of the spice-islands in the Indian Ocean. Thus every fresh discovery,
interpreted by his previous delusion, served to confirm him in his error, or, at least, to fill his mind with new
perplexities.

The career thus thrown open had all the fascinations of a desperate hazard, on which the adventurer staked all his
hopes of fortune, fame, and life itself. It was not often, indeed, that he won the rich prize which he most coveted;
but then he was sure to win the meed of glory, scarcely less dear to his chivalrous spirit; and, if he survived to
return to his home, he had wonderful stories to recount, of perilous chances among the strange people he had visited,
and the burning climes, whose rank fertility and magnificence of vegetation so far surpassed anything he had witnessed
in his own. These reports added fresh fuel to imaginations already warmed by the study of those tales of chivalry which
formed the favourite reading of the Spaniards at that period. Thus romance and reality acted on each other, and the
soul of the Spaniard was exalted to that pitch of enthusiasm, which enabled him to encounter the terrible trials that
lay in the path of the discoverer. Indeed, the life of the cavalier of that day was romance put into action. The story
of his adventures in the New World forms one of the most remarkable pages in the history of man.

Under this chivalrous spirit of enterprise, the progress of discovery had extended, by the beginning of Charles the
Fifth’s reign, from the Bay of Honduras, along the winding shores of Darien, and the South American continent, to the
Rio de la Plata. The mighty barrier of the Isthmus had been climbed, and the Pacific descried, by Nunez de Balboa,
second only to Columbus in this valiant band of “ocean chivalry.” The Bahamas and Caribbee Islands had been explored,
as well as the Peninsula of Florida on the northern continent. To this latter point Sebastian Cabot had arrived in his
descent along the coast from Labrador, in 1497. So that before 1518, the period when our narrative begins, the eastern
borders of both the great continents had been surveyed through nearly their whole extent. The shores of the great
Mexican Gulf, however, sweeping with a wide circuit far into the interior, remained still concealed, with the rich
realms that lay beyond, from the eye of the navigator. The time had now come for their discovery.

The business of colonisation had kept pace with that of discovery. In several of the islands, and in various parts
of Terra Firma, and in Darien, settlements had been established, under the control of governors who affected the state
and authority of viceroys. Grants of land were assigned to the colonists, on which they raised the natural products of
the soil, but gave still more attention to the suggar-cane, imported from the Canaries. Sugar, indeed, together with
the beautiful dye-woods of the country and the precious metals, formed almost the only articles of export in the
infancy of the colonies, which had not yet introduced those other staples of the West Indian commerce, which, in our
day, constitute its principal wealth. Yet the precious metals, painfully gleaned from a few scanty sources, would have
made poor returns, but for the gratuitous labour of the Indians.

The cruel system of repartimientos, or distribution of the Indians as slaves among the conquerors, had been
suppressed by Isabella. Although subsequently countenanced by the government, it was under the most careful
limitations. But it is impossible to license crime by halves — to authorise injustice at all, and hope to regulate the
measure of it. The eloquent remonstrances of the Dominicans — who devoted themselves to the good work of conversion in
the New World with the same zeal that they showed for persecution in the Old — but, above all, those of Las Casas,
induced the regent Ximenes to send out a commission with full powers to inquire into the alleged grievances, and to
redress them. It had authority, moreover, to investigate the conduct of the civil officers, and to reform any abuses in
their administration. This extraordinary commission consisted of three Hieronymite friars and an eminent jurist, all
men of learning and unblemished piety.

They conducted the inquiry in a very dispassionate manner; but, after long deliberation, came to a conclusion most
unfavourable to the demands of Las Casas, who insisted on the entire freedom of the natives. This conclusion they
justified on the grounds that the Indians would not labour without compulsion, and that, unless they laboured, they
could not be brought into communication with the whites, nor be converted to Christianity. Whatever we may think of
this argument, it was doubtless urged with sincerity by its advocates, whose conduct through their whole administration
places their motives above suspicion. They accompanied it with many careful provisions for the protection of the
natives — but in vain. The simple people, accustomed all their days to a life of indolence and ease, sunk under the
oppressions of their masters, and the population wasted away with even more frightful rapidity than did the aborigines
in our own country, under the operation of other causes. It is not necessary to pursue these details further, into
which I have been led by the desire to put the reader in possession of the general policy and state of affairs in the
New World, at the period when the present narrative begins.

Of the islands, Cuba was the second discovered; but no attempt had been made to plant a colony there during the
lifetime of Columbus; who, indeed, after skirting the whole extent of its southern coast, died in the conviction that
it was part of the continent. At length, in 1511, Diego, the son and successor of the “Admiral,” who still maintained
the seat of government in Hispaniola, finding the mines much exhausted there, proposed to occupy the neighbouring
island of Cuba, or Fernandina, as it was called, in compliment to the Spanish monarch. He prepared a small force for
the conquest, which he placed under the command of Don Diego Velasquez; a man described by a contemporary, as
“possessed of considerable experience in military affairs, having served seventeen years in the European wars; as
honest, illustrious by his lineage and reputation, covetous of glory, and somewhat more covetous of wealth.” The
portrait was sketched by no unfriendly hand.

Velasquez, or rather his lieutenant Narvaez, who took the office on himself of scouring the country, met with no
serious opposition from the inhabitants, who were of the same family with the effeminate natives of Hispaniola. The
conquest, through the merciful interposition of Las Casas, “the protector of the Indians,” who accompanied the army in
its march, was effected without much bloodshed. One chief, indeed, named Hatuey, having fled originally from St.
Domingo to escape the oppression of its invaders, made a desperate resistance, for which he was condemned by Velasquez
to be burned alive. It was he who made that memorable reply, more eloquent than a volume of invective. When urged at
the stake to embrace Christianity, that his soul might find admission into heaven, he inquired if the white men would
go there. On being answered in the affirmative, he exclaimed, “Then I will not be a Christian; for I would not go again
to a place where I must find men so cruel!” The story is told by Las Casas in his appalling record of the cruelties of
his countrymen in the New World.

After the conquest, Velasquez, now appointed governor, diligently occupied himself with measures for promoting the
prosperity of the island. He formed a number of settlements, bearing the same names with the modern towns, and made St.
Jago, on the south-east corner, the seat of government. He invited settlers by liberal grants of land and slaves. He
encouraged them to cultivate the soil, and gave particular attention to the sugar-cane, so profitable an article of
commerce in later times. He was, above all, intent on working the gold mines, which promised better returns than those
in Hispaniola. The affairs of his government did not prevent him, meanwhile, from casting many a wistful glance at the
discoveries going forward on the continent, and he longed for an opportunity to embark in these golden adventures
himself. Fortune gave him the occasion he desired.

An hidalgo of Cuba, named Hernandez de Cordova, sailed with three vessels on an expedition to one of the
neighbouring Bahama Islands, in quest of Indian slaves. (February 8, 1517.) He encountered a succession of heavy gales
which drove him far out of his course, and at the end of three weeks he found himself on a strange but unknown coast.
On landing and asking the name of the country, he was answered by the natives, “Tectetan,” meaning, “I do not
understand you,”— but which the Spaniards, misinterpreting into the name of the place, easily corrupted into Yucatan.
Some writers give a different etymology. Such mistakes, however, were not uncommon with the early discoverers, and have
been the origin of many a name on the American continent.

Cordova had landed on the north-eastern end of the peninsula, at Cape Catoche. He was astonished at the size and
solid material of the buildings constructed of stone and lime, so different from the frail tenements of reeds and
rushes which formed the habitations of the islanders. He was struck, also, with the higher cultivation of the soil, and
with the delicate texture of the cotton garments and gold ornaments of the natives. Everything indicated a civilisation
far superior to anything he had before witnessed in the New World. He saw the evidence of a different race, moreover,
in the warlike spirit of the people. Rumours of the Spaniards had, perhaps, preceded them, as they were repeatedly
asked if they came from the east; and wherever they landed, they were met with the most deadly hostility. Cordova
himself, in one of his skirmishes with the Indians, received more than a dozen wounds, and one only of his party
escaped unhurt. At length, when he had coasted the peninsula as far as Campeachy, he returned to Cuba, which he reached
after an absence of several months, having suffered all the extremities of ill, which these pioneers of the ocean were
sometimes called to endure, and which none but the most courageous spirit could have survived. As it was, half the
original number, consisting of one hundred and ten men, perished, including their brave commander, who died soon after
his return. The reports he had brought back of the country, and still more, the specimens of curiously wrought gold,
convinced Velasquez of the importance of this discovery, and he prepared with all despatch to avail himself of it.

He accordingly fitted out a little squadron of four vessels for the newly discovered lands, and placed it under the
command of his nephew, Juan de Grijalva, a man on whose probity, prudence, and attachment to himself he knew he could
rely. The fleet left the port of St. Jago de Cuba, May 1, 1518. It took the course pursued by Cordova, but was driven
somewhat to the south, the first land that it made being the island of Cozumel. From this quarter Grijalva soon passed
over to the continent and coasted the peninsula, touching at the same places as his predecessor. Everywhere he was
struck, like him, with the evidences of a higher civilisation, especially in the architecture. He was astonished, also,
at the sight of large stone crosses, evidently objects of worship, which he met with in various places. Reminded by
these circumstances of his own country, he gave the peninsula the name “New Spain,” a name since appropriated to a much
wider extent of territory.

Wherever Grijalva landed, he experienced the same unfriendly reception as Cordova, though he suffered less, being
better prepared to meet it. In the Rio de Tabasco or Grijalva, as it is often called after him, he held an amicable
conference with a chief, who gave him a number of gold plates fashioned into a sort of armour. As he wound round the
Mexican coast, one of his captains, Pedro de Alvarado, afterwards famous in the Conquest, entered a river, to which he
also left his own name. In a neighbouring stream, called the Rio de Vanderas, or “River of Banners,” from the ensigns
displayed by the natives on its borders, Grijalva had the first communication with the Mexicans themselves.

The cacique who ruled over this province had received notice of the approach of the Europeans, and of their
extraordinary appearance. He was anxious to collect all the information he could respecting them, and the motives of
their visit, that he might transmit them to his master, the Aztec emperor. A friendly conference took place between the
parties on shore, where Grijalva landed with all his force, so as to make a suitable impression on the mind of the
barbaric chief. The interview lasted some hours, though, as there was no one on either side to interpret the language
of the other, they could communicate only by signs. They, however, interchanged presents, and the Spaniards had the
satisfaction of receiving, for a few worthless toys and trinkets, a rich treasure of jewels, gold ornaments and
vessels, of the most fantastic forms and workmanship.

Grijalva now thought that in this successful traffic — successful beyond his most sanguine expectations — he had
accomplished the chief object of his mission. He steadily refused the solicitations of his followers to plant a colony
on the spot — a work of no little difficulty in so populous and powerful a country as this appeared to be. To this,
indeed, he was inclined, but deemed it contrary to his instructions, which limited him to barter with the natives. He
therefore despatched Alvarado in one of the caravels back to Cuba, with the treasure and such intelligence as he had
gleaned of the great empire in the interior, and then pursued his voyage along the coast.

He touched at St. Juan de Ulua, and at the Isla de los Sacrificios, so called by him from the bloody remains of
human victims found in one of the temples. He then held on his course as far as the province of Panuco, where finding
some difficulty in doubling a boisterous headland, he returned on his track, and after an absence of nearly six months,
reached Cuba in safety. Grijalva has the glory of being the first navigator who set foot on the Mexican soil, and
opened an intercourse with the Aztecs.

On reaching the island, he was surprised to learn that another and more formidable armament had been fitted out to
follow up his own discoveries, and to find orders at the same time from the governor, couched in no very courteous
language, to repair at once to St. Jago. He was received by that personage, not merely with coldness, but with
reproaches for having neglected so fair an opportunity of establishing a colony in the country he had visited.
Velasquez was one of those captious spirits, who, when things do not go exactly to their minds, are sure to shift the
responsibility of the failure from their own shoulders, where it should lie, to those of others. He had an ungenerous
nature, says an old writer, credulous, and easily moved to suspicion. In the present instance it was most unmerited.
Grijalva, naturally a modest, unassuming person, had acted in obedience to the instructions of his commander, given
before sailing; and had done this in opposition to his own judgment and the importunities of his followers. His conduct
merited anything but censure from his employer.

When Alvarado had returned to Cuba with his golden freight, and the accounts of the rich empire of Mexico which he
had gathered from the natives, the heart of the governor swelled with rapture as he saw his dreams of avarice and
ambition so likely to be realised. Impatient of the long absence of Grijalva, he despatched a vessel in search of him
under the command of Olid, a cavalier who took an important part afterwards in the Conquest. Finally he resolved to fit
out another armament on a sufficient scale to insure the subjugation of the country.

He previously solicited authority for this from the Hieronymite commission in St. Domingo. He then despatched his,
chaplain to Spain with the royal share of the gold brought from Mexico, and a full account of the intelligence gleaned
there. He set forth his own manifold services, and solicited from the country full powers to go on with the conquest
and colonisation of the newly discovered regions. Before receiving an answer, he began his preparations for the
armament, and, first of all, endeavoured to find a suitable person to share the expense of it, and to take the command.
Such a person he found, after some difficulty and delay, in Hernando Cortes; the man of all others best calculated to
achieve this great enterprise — the last man to whom Velasquez, could he have foreseen the results, would have confided
it.

Chapter II 1518

HERNANDO CORTES— HIS EARLY LIFE— VISITS THE NEW WORLD— HIS RESIDENCE IN CUBA— DIFFICULTIES WITH
VELASQUEZ— ARMADA INTRUSTED TO CORTES

HERNANDO CORTES was born at Medellin, a town in the south-east corner of Estremadura, in 1485. He came of an ancient
and respectable family; and historians have gratified the national vanity by tracing it up to the Lombard kings, whose
descendants crossed the Pyrenees, and established themselves in Aragon under the Gothic monarchy. This royal genealogy
was not found out till Cortes had acquired a name which would confer distinction on any descent, however noble. His
father, Martin Cortes de Monroy, was a captain of infantry, in moderate circumstances, but a man of unblemished honour;
and both he and his wife, Dona Catalina Pizarro Altamirano, appear to have been much regarded for their excellent
qualities.

In his infancy Cortes is said to have had a feeble constitution, which strengthened as he grew older. At fourteen,
he was sent to Salamanca, as his father, who conceived great hopes from his quick and showy parts, proposed to educate
him for the law, a profession which held out better inducements to the young aspirant than any other. The son, however,
did not conform to these views. He showed little fondness for books, and after loitering away two years at college,
returned home, to the great chagrin of his parents. Yet his time had not been wholly misspent, since he had laid up a
little store of Latin, and learned to write good prose, and even verses “of some estimation, considering”— as an old
writer quaintly remarks —“Cortes as the author.” He now passed his days in the idle, unprofitable manner of one who,
too wilful to be guided by others, proposes no object to himself. His buoyant spirits were continually breaking out in
troublesome frolics and capricious humours, quite at variance with the orderly habits of his father’s. household. He
showed a particular inclination for the military profession, or rather for the life of adventure to which in those days
it was sure to lead. And when, at the age of seventeen, he proposed to enrol himself under the banners of the Great
Captain, his parents, probably thinking a life of hardship and hazard abroad preferable to one of idleness at home,
made no objection.

The youthful cavalier, however, hesitated whether to seek his fortunes under that victorious chief, or in the New
World, where gold as well as glory was to be won, and where the very dangers had a mystery and romance in them
inexpressibly fascinating to a youthful fancy. It was in this direction, accordingly, that the hot spirits of that day
found a vent, especially from that part of the country where Cortes lived, the neighbourhood of Seville and Cadiz, the
focus of nautical enterprise. He decided on this latter course, and an opportunity offered in the splendid armament
fitted out under Don Nicolas de Ovando, successor to Columbus. An unlucky accident defeated the purpose of Cortes.

As he was scaling a high wall, one night, which gave him access to the apartment of a lady with whom he was engaged
in an intrigue, the stones gave way, and he was thrown down with much violence and buried under the ruins. A severe
contusion, though attended with no other serious consequences, confined him to his bed till after the departure of the
fleet.

Two years longer he remained at home, profiting little, as it would seem, from the lesson he had received. At length
he availed himself of another opportunity presented by the departure of a small squadron of vessels bound to the Indian
islands. He was nineteen years of age when he bade adieu to his native shores in 1504 — the same year in which Spain
lost the best and greatest in her long line of princes, Isabella the Catholic.

Immediately on landing, Cortes repaired to the house of the governor, to whom he had been personally known in Spain.
Ovando was absent on an expedition into the interior, but the young man was kindly received by the secretary, who
assured him there would be no doubt of his obtaining a liberal grant of land to settle on. “But I came to get gold,”
replied Cortes, “not to till the soil like a peasant.”

On the governor’s return, Cortes consented to give up his roving thoughts, at least for a time, as the other
laboured to convince him that he would be more likely to realise his wishes from the slow, indeed, but sure, returns of
husbandry, where the soil and the labourers were a free gift to the planter, than by taking his chance in the lottery
of adventure, in which there were so many blanks to a prize. He accordingly received a grant of land, with a
repartimiento of Indians, and was appointed notary of the town or settlement of Agua. His graver pursuits, however, did
not prevent his indulgence of the amorous propensities which belong to the sunny clime where he was born; and this
frequently involved him in affairs of honour, from which, though an expert swordsman, he carried away sears that
accompanied him to his grave. He occasionally, moreover, found the means of breaking up the monotony of his way of life
by engaging in the military expeditions which, under the command of Ovando’s lieutenant, Diego Velasquez, were employed
to suppress the insurrections of the natives. In this school the young adventurer first studied the wild tactics of
Indian warfare; he became familiar with toil and danger, and with those deeds of cruelty which have too often, alas!
stained the bright scutcheons of the Castilian chivalry in the New World. He was only prevented by illness — a most
fortunate one, on this occasion — from embarking in Nicuessa’s expedition, which furnished a tale of woe, not often
matched in the annals of Spanish discovery. Providence reserved him for higher ends.

At length, in 1511, when Velasquez undertook the conquest of Cuba, Cortes willingly abandoned his quiet life for the
stirring scenes there opened, and took part in the expedition. He displayed throughout the invasion an activity and
courage that won him the approbation of the commander; while his free and cordial manners, his good humour, and lively
sallies of wit made him the favourite of the soldiers. “He gave little evidence,” says a contemporary, “of the great
qualities which he afterwards showed.” It is probable these qualities were not known to himself; while to a common
observer his careless manners and jocund repartees might well seem incompatible with anything serious or profound; as
the real depth of the current is not suspected under the light play and sunny sparkling of the surface.

After the reduction of the island, Cortes seems to have been held in great favour by Velasquez, now appointed its
governor. According to Las Casas, he was made one of his secretaries. He still retained the same fondness for
gallantry, for which his handsome person afforded obvious advantages, but which had more than once brought him into
trouble in earlier life. Among the families who had taken up their residence in Cuba was one of the name of Xuarez,
from Granada in Old Spain. It consisted of a brother, and four sisters remarkable for their beauty. With one of them,
named Catalina, the susceptible heart of the young soldier became enamoured. How far the intimacy was carried is not
quite certain. But it appears he gave his promise to marry her — a promise which, when the time came, and reason, it
may be, had got the better of passion, he showed no alacrity in keeping. He resisted, indeed, all remonstrances to this
effect from the lady’s family, backed by the governor, and somewhat sharpened, no doubt, in the latter by the
particular interest he took in one of the fair sisters, who is said not to have repaid it with ingratitude.

Whether the rebuke of Velasquez, or some other cause of disgust, rankled in the breast of Cortes, he now became cold
toward his patron, and connected himself with a disaffected party tolerably numerous in the island. They were in the
habit of meeting at his house and brooding over their causes of discontent, chiefly founded, it would appear, on what
they conceived an ill requital of their services in the distribution of lands and offices. It may well be imagined,
that it could have been no easy task for the ruler of one of these colonies, however discreet and well intentioned, to
satisfy the indefinite cravings of speculators and adventurers, who swarmed, like so many famished harpies, in the
track of discovery in the New World.

The malcontents determined to lay their grievances before the higher authorities in Hispaniola, from whom Velasquez
had received his commission. The voyage was one of some hazard, as it was to be made in an open boat, across an arm of
the sea, eighteen leagues wide; and they fixed on Cortes, with whose fearless spirit they were well acquainted, as the
fittest man to undertake it. The conspiracy got wind, and came to the governor’s ears before the departure of the
envoy, whom he instantly caused to be seized, loaded with fetters, and placed in strict confinement. It is even said,
he would have hung him, but for the interposition of his friends.

Cortes did not long remain in durance. He contrived to throw back one of the bolts of his fetters; and, after
extricating his limbs, succeeded in forcing open a window with the irons so as to admit of his escape. He was lodged on
the second floor of the building, and was able to let himself down to the pavement without injury, and unobserved. He
then made the best of his way to a neighbouring church, where he claimed the privilege of sanctuary.

Velasquez, though incensed at his escape, was afraid to violate the sanctity of the place by employing force. But he
stationed a guard in the neighbourhood, with orders to seize the fugitive, if he should forget himself so far as to
leave the sanctuary. In a few days this happened. As Cortes was carelessly standing without the walls in front of the
building, an alguacil suddenly sprung on him from behind and pinioned his arms, while others rushed in and secured him.
This man, whose name was Juan Escudero, was afterwards hung by Cortes for some offence in New Spain.

The unlucky prisoner was again put in irons, and carried on board a vessel to sail the next morning for Hispaniola,
there to undergo his trial. Fortune favoured him once more. He succeeded after much difficulty and no little pain, in
passing his feet through the rings which shackled them. He then came cautiously on deck, and, covered by the darkness
of the night, stole quietly down the side of the ship into a boat that lay floating below. He pushed off from the
vessel with as little noise as possible. As he drew near the shore, the stream became rapid and turbulent. He hesitated
to trust his boat to it; and, as he was an excellent swimmer, prepared to breast it himself, and boldly plunged into
the water. The current was strong, but the arm of a man struggling for life was stronger; and after buffeting the waves
till he was nearly exhausted, he succeeded in gaining a landing; when he sought refuge in the same sanctuary which had
protected him before. The facility with which Cortes a second time effected his escape, may lead one to doubt the
fidelity of his guards; who perhaps looked on him as the victim of persecution, and felt the influence of those popular
manners which seem to have gained him friends in every society into which he was thrown.

For some reason not explained — perhaps from policy — he now relinquished his objections to the marriage with
Catalina Xuarez. He thus secured the good offices of her family. Soon afterwards the governor himself relented, and
became reconciled to his unfortunate enemy. A strange story is told in connection with this event. It is said, his
proud spirit refused to accept the proffers of reconciliation made him by Velasquez; and that one evening, leaving the
sanctuary, he presented himself unexpectedly before the latter in his own quarters, when on a military excursion at
some distance from the capital. The governor, startled by the sudden apparition of his enemy completely armed before
him, with some dismay inquired the meaning of it. Cortes answered by insisting on a full explanation of his previous
conduct. After some hot discussion the interview terminated amicably; the parties embraced, and, when a messenger
arrived to announce the escape of Cortes, he found him in the apartments of his Excellency, where, having retired to
rest, both were actually sleeping in the same bed! The anecdote is repeated without distrust by more than one
biographer of Cortes. It is not very probable, however, that a haughty irascible man like Velasquez should have given
such uncommon proofs of condescension and familiarity to one, so far beneath him in station, with whom he had been so
recently in deadly feud; nor, on the other hand, that Cortes should have had the silly temerity to brave the lion in
his den, where a single nod would have sent him to the gibbet — and that too with as little compunction or fear of
consequences as would have attended the execution of an Indian slave.

The reconciliation with the governor, however brought about, was permanent. Cortes, though not re-established in the
office of secretary, received a liberal repartimiento of Indians, and an ample territory in the neighbourhood of St.
Jago, of which he was soon after made alcalde. He now lived almost wholly on his estate, devoting himself to
agriculture, with more zeal than formerly. He stocked his plantation with different kinds of cattle, some of which were
first introduced by him into Cuba. He wrought, also, the gold mines which fell to his share, and which in this island
promised better returns than those in Hispaniola. By this course of industry he found himself in a few years master of
some two or three thousand castellanos, a large sum for one in his situation. “God, who alone knows at what cost of
Indian lives it was obtained,” exclaims Las Casas, “will take account of it!” His days glided smoothly away in these
tranquil pursuits, and in the society of his beautiful wife, who, however ineligible as a connection, from the
inferiority of her condition, appears to have fulfilled all the relations of a faithful and affectionate partner.
Indeed, he was often heard to say at this time, as the good bishop above quoted remarks, “that he lived as happily with
her as if she had been the daughter of a duchess.” Fortune gave him the means in after life of verifying the truth of
his assertion.

Such was the state of things, when Alvarado returned with the tidings of Grijalva’s discoveries, and the rich fruits
of his traffic with the natives. The news spread like wildfire throughout the island; for all saw in it the promise of
more important results than any hitherto obtained. The governor, as already noticed, resolved to follow up the track of
discovery with a more considerable armament; and he looked around for a proper person to share the expense of it, and
to take the command.

Several hidalgos presented themselves, whom, from want of proper qualifications, or from his distrust of their
assuming an independence of their employer, he one after another rejected. There were two persons in St. Jago in whom
he placed great confidence — Amador de Lares, the contador, or royal treasurer, and his own secretary, Andres de Duero.
Cortes was also in close intimacy with both these persons; and he availed himself of it to prevail on them to recommend
him as a suitable person to be intrusted with the expedition. It is said, he reinforced the proposal by promising a
liberal share of the proceeds of it. However this may be, the parties urged his selection by the governor with all the
eloquence of which they were capable. That officer had had ample experience of the capacity and courage of the
candidate. He knew, too, that he had acquired a fortune which would enable him to co-operate materially in fitting out
the armament. His popularity in the island would speedily attract followers to his standard. All past animosities had
long since been buried in oblivion, and the confidence he was now to repose in him would insure his fidelity and
gratitude. He lent a willing ear, therefore, to the recommendation of his counsellors, and, sending for Cortes,
announced his purpose of making him captaingeneral of the armada.

Cortes had now attained the object of his wishes — the object for which his soul had panted, ever since he had set
foot in the New World. He was no longer to be condemned to a life of mercenary drudgery; nor to be cooped up within the
precincts of a petty island; but he was to be placed on a new and independent theatre of action, and a boundless
perspective was opened to his view, which might satisfy not merely the wildest cravings of avarice, but, to a bold
aspiring spirit like his, the far more important cravings of ambition. He fully appreciated the importance of the late
discoveries, and read in them the existence of the great empire in the far West, dark hints of which had floated from
time to time in the islands, and of which more certain glimpses had been caught by those who had reached the continent.
This was the country intimated to the “Great Admiral” in his visit to Honduras in 1502, and which he might have
reached, had he held on a northern course, instead of striking to the south in quest of an imaginary strait. As it was,
“he had but opened the gate,” to use his own bitter expression, “for others to enter.” The time had at length come when
they were to enter it; and the young adventurer, whose magic lance was to dissolve the spell which had so long hung
over these mysterious regions, now stood ready to assume the enterprise.

From this hour the deportment of Cortes seemed to undergo a change. His thoughts, instead of evaporating in empty
levities or idle flashes of merriment, were wholly concentrated on the great object to which he was devoted. His
elastic spirits were shown in cheering and stimulating the companions of his toilsome duties, and he was roused to a
generous enthusiasm, of which even those who knew him best had not conceived him capable. He applied at once all the
money in his possession to fitting out the armament. He raised more by the mortgage of his estates, and by giving his
obligations to some wealthy merchants of the place, who relied for their reimbursement on the success of the
expedition; and, when his own credit was exhausted, he availed himself of that of his friends.

The funds thus acquired he expended in the purchase of vessels, provisions, and military stores, while he invited
recruits by offers of assistance to such as were too poor to provide for themselves, and by the additional promise of a
liberal share of the anticipated profits.

All was now bustle and excitement in the little town of St. Jago. Some were busy in refitting the vessels and
getting them ready for the voyage; some in providing naval stores; others in converting their own estates into money in
order to equip themselves; every one seemed anxious to contribute in some way or other to the success of the
expedition. Six ships, some of them of a large size, had already been procured; and three hundred recruits enrolled
themselves in the course of a few days, eager to seek their fortunes under the banner of this daring and popular
chieftain.

How far the governor contributed towards the expenses of the outfit is not very clear. If the friends of Cortes are
to be believed, nearly the whole burden fell on him; since, while he supplied the squadron without remuneration, the
governor sold many of his own stores at an exorbitant profit. Yet it does not seem probable that Velasquez, with such
ample means at his command, should have thrown on his deputy the burden of the expedition; nor that the latter, had he
done so, could have been in a condition to meet these expenses, amounting, as we are told, to more than twenty thousand
gold ducats. Still it cannot be denied that an ambitious man like Cortes, who was to reap all the glory of the
enterprise, would very naturally be less solicitous to count the gains of it, than his employer, who, inactive at home,
and having no laurels to win, must look on the pecuniary profits as his only recompense. The question gave rise, some
years later, to a furious litigation between the parties, with which it is not necessary at present to embarrass the
reader.

It is due to Velasquez to state that the instructions delivered by him for the conduct of the expedition cannot be
charged with a narrow or mercenary spirit. The first object of the voyage was to find Grijalva, after which the two
commanders were to proceed in company together. Reports had been brought back by Cordova, on his return from the first
visit to Yucatan, that six Christians were said to be lingering in captivity in the interior of the country. It was
supposed they might belong to the party of the unfortunate Nicuessa, and orders were given to find them out, if
possible, and restore them to liberty. But the great object of the expedition was barter with the natives. In pursuing
this, special care was to be taken that they should receive no wrong, but be treated with kindness and humanity. Cortes
was to bear in mind, above all things, that the object which the Spanish monarch had most at heart was the conversion
of the Indians. He was to impress on them the grandeur and goodness of his royal master, to invite them “to give in
their allegiance to him, and to manifest it by regaling him with such comfortable presents of gold, pearls, and
precious stones as, by showing their own good will, would secure his favour and protection.” He was to make an accurate
survey of the coast, sounding its bays and inlets for the benefit of future navigators. He was to acquaint himself with
the natural products of the country, with the character of its different races, their institutions and progress in
civilisation; and he was to send home minute accounts of all these, together with such articles as he should obtain in
his intercourse with them. Finally, he was to take the most careful care to omit nothing that might redound to the
service of God or his sovereign.

Such was the general tenor of the instructions given to Cortes, and they must be admitted to provide for the
interests of science and humanity, as wen as for those which had reference only to a commercial speculation. It may
seem strange, considering the discontent shown by Velasquez with his former captain, Grijalva, for not colonising, that
no directions should have been given to that effect here. But he bad not yet received from Spain the warrant for
investing his agents with such powers; and that which had been obtained from the Hieronymite fathers in Hispaniola
conceded only the right to traffic with the natives. The commission at the same time recognised the authority of Cortes
as Captain General.

Chapter III [1518–1519]

JEALOUSY OF VELASQUEZ— CORTES EMBARKS— EQUIPMENT OF HIS FLEET— HIS PERSON AND CHARACTER— RENDEZVOUS
AT HAVANA— STRENGTH OF HIS ARMAMENT

THE importance given to Cortes by his new position, and perhaps a somewhat more lofty bearing, gradually gave
uneasiness to the naturally suspicious temper of Velasquez, who became apprehensive that his officer, when away where
he would have the power, might also have the inclination, to throw off his dependence on him altogether. An accidental
circumstance at this time heightened these suspicions. A mad fellow, his jester, one of those crack-brained wits — half
wit, half fool — who formed in those days a common appendage to every great man’s establishment, called out to the
governor, as he was taking his usual walk one morning with Cortes towards the port, “Have a care, master Velasquez, or
we shall have to go a hunting, some day or other, after this same captain of ours!” “Do you hear what the rogue says?”
exclaimed the governor to his companion. “Do not heed him,” said Cortes, “he is a saucy knave, and deserves a good
whipping.” The words sunk deep, however, in the mind of Velasquez — as, indeed, true jests are apt to stick.

There were not wanting persons about his Excellency, who fanned the latent embers of jealousy into a blaze. These
worthy gentlemen, some of them kinsmen of Velasquez, who probably felt their own deserts somewhat thrown into the shade
by the rising fortunes of Cortes, reminded the governor of his ancient quarrel with that officer, and of the little
probability that affronts so keenly felt at the time could ever be forgotten. By these and similar suggestions, and by
misconstructions of the present conduct of Cortes, they wrought on the passions of Velasquez to such a degree, that he
resolved to intrust the expedition to other hands.

He communicated his design to his confidential advisers, Lares and Duero, and these trusty personages reported it
without delay to Cortes, although, “to a man of half his penetration,” says Las Casas, “the thing would have been
readily divined from the governor’s altered demeanour.” The two functionaries advised their friend to expedite matters
as much as possible, and to lose no time in getting his fleet ready for sea, if he would retain the command of it.
Cortes showed the same prompt decision on this occasion, which more than once afterwards in a similar crisis gave the
direction to his destiny.

He had not yet got his complement of men, nor of vessels; and was very inadequately provided with supplies of any
kind. But he resolved to weigh anchor that very night. He waited on his officers, informed them of his purpose, and
probably of the cause of it; and at midnight, when the town was hushed in sleep, they all went quietly on board, and
the little squadron dropped down the bay. First, however, Cortes had visited the person whose business it was to supply
the place with meat, and relieved him of all his stock on hand, notwithstanding his complaint that the city must suffer
for it on the morrow, leaving him, at the same time, in payment, a massive gold chain of much value, which he wore
round his neck.

Great was the amazement, of the good citizens of St. Jago, when, at dawn, they saw that the fleet, which they knew
was so ill prepared for the voyage, had left its moorings and was busily getting under way. The tidings soon came to
the ears of his Excellency, who, springing from his bed, hastily dressed himself, mounted his horse, and, followed by
his retinue, galloped down to the quay. Cortes, as soon as he descried their approach, entered an armed boat, and came
within speaking distance of the shore. “And is it thus you part from me!” exclaimed Velasquez; “a courteous way of
taking leave, truly!” “Pardon me,” answered Cortes, “time presses, and there are some things that should be done before
they are even thought of. Has your Excellency any commands?” But the mortified governor had no commands to give; and
Cortes, politely waving his hand, returned to his vessel, and the little fleet instantly made sail for the port of
Macaca, about fifteen leagues distant. (November 18, 1518.) Velasquez rode back to his house to digest his chagrin as
he best might; satisfied, probably, that he had made at least two blunders; one in appointing Cortes to the command —
the other in attempting to deprive him of it. For, if it be true, that by giving our confidence by halves, we can
scarcely hope to make a friend, it is equally true, that, by withdrawing it when given, we shall make an enemy.

This clandestine departure of Cortes has been severely criticised by some writers, especially by Las Casas. Yet much
may be urged in vindication of his conduct. He had been appointed to the command by the voluntary act of the governor,
and this had been fully ratified by the authorities of Hispaniola. He had at once devoted all his resources to the
undertaking, incurring, indeed, a heavy debt in addition. He was now be deprived of his commission, without any
misconduct having been alleged or at least proved against him. Such an event must overwhelm him in irretrievable ruin,
to say nothing of the friends from whom he had so largely borrowed, and the followers who had embarked their fortunes
in the expedition on the faith of his commanding it. There are few persons, probably, who under these circumstances
would have felt called tamely to acquiesce in the sacrifice of their hopes to a groundless and arbitrary whim. The most
to have been expected from Cortes was, that he should feel obliged to provide faithfully for the interests of his
employer in the conduct of the enterprise. How far he felt the force of this obligation will appear in the sequel.

From Macaca, where Cortes laid in such stores as he could obtain from the royal farms, and which, he said, he
considered as “a loan from the king,” he proceeded to Trinidad; a more considerable town, on the southern coast of
Cuba. Here he landed, and erecting his standard in front of his quarters, made proclamation, with liberal offers to all
who would join the expedition. Volunteers came in daily, and among them more than a hundred of Grijalva’s men, just
returned from their voyage, and willing to follow up the discovery under an enterprising leader. The fame of Cortes
attracted, also, a number of cavaliers of family and distinction, some of whom, having accompanied Grijalva, brought
much information valuable for the present expedition. Among these hidalgos may be mentioned Pedro de Alvarado and his
brothers, Christoval de Olid, Alonso de Avila, Juan Velasquez de Leon, a near relation of the governor, Alonso
Hernandez de Puertocarrero, and Gonzalo de Sandoval — all of them men who took a most important part in the Conquest.
Their presence was of great moment, as giving consideration to the enterprise; and, when they entered the little camp
of the adventurers, the latter turned out to welcome them amidst lively strains of music and joyous salvos of
artillery.

Cortes meanwhile was active in purchasing military stores and provisions. Learning that a trading vessel laden with
grain and other commodities for the mines was off the coast, he ordered out one of his caravels to seize her and bring
her into port. He paid the master in bills for both cargo and ship, and even persuaded this man, named Sedeno, who was
wealthy, to join his fortunes to the expedition. He also despatched one of his officers, Diego de Ordaz, in quest of
another ship, of which he had tidings, with instructions to seize it in like manner, and to meet him with it off Cape
St. Antonio, the westerly point of the island. By this he effected another object, that of getting rid of Ordaz, who
was one of the governor’s household, and an inconvenient spy on his own actions.

While thus occupied, letters from Velasquez were received by the commander of Trinidad, requiring him to seize the
person of Cortes, and to detain him, as he had been deposed from the command of the fleet, which was given to another.
This functionary communicated his instructions to the principal officers in the expedition, who counselled him not to
make the attempt, as it would undoubtedly lead to a commotion among the soldiers, that might end in laying the town in
ashes. Verdugo thought it prudent to conform to this advice.

As Cortes was willing to strengthen himself by still further reinforcements, he ordered Alvarado with a small body
of men to march across the country to the Havana, while he himself would sail round the westerly point of the island,
and meet him there with the squadron. In this port he again displayed his standard, making the usual proclamation. He
caused all the large guns to be brought on shore, and with the small arms and crossbows, to be put in order. As there
was abundance of cotton raised in this neighbourhood, he had the jackets of the soldiers thickly quilted with it, for a
defence against the Indian arrows, from which the troops in the former expeditions had grievously suffered. He
distributed his men into eleven companies, each under the command of an experienced officer; and it was observed, that,
although several of the cavaliers in the service were the personal friends and even kinsmen of Velasquez, he appeared
to treat them all with perfect confidence.

His principal standard was of black velvet embroidered with gold, and emblazoned with a red cross amidst flames of
blue and white, with this motto in Latin beneath: “Friends, let us follow the Cross; and under this sign, if we have
faith, we shall conquer.” He now assumed more state in his own person and way of living, introducing a greater number
of domestics and officers into his household, and placing it on a footing becoming a man of high station. This state he
maintained through the rest of his life.

Cortes at this time was thirty-three, or perhaps thirty-four years of age. In stature he was rather above the middle
size. His complexion was pale; and his large dark eye gave an expression of gravity to his countenance, not to have
been expected in one of his cheerful temperament. His figure was slender, at least until later life; but his chest was
deep, his shoulders broad, his frame muscular and well-proportioned. It presented the union of agility and vigour which
qualified him to excel in fencing, horsemanship, and the other generous exercises of chivalry. In his diet he was
temperate, careless of what he ate, and drinking little; while to toil and privation he seemed perfectly indifferent.
His dress, for he did not disdain the impression produced by such adventitious aids, was such as to set off his
handsome person to advantage; neither gaudy nor striking, but rich. He wore few ornaments, and usually the same; but
those were of great price. His manners, frank and soldier-like, concealed a most cool and calculating spirit. With his
gayest humour there mingled a settled air of resolution, which made those who approached him feel they must obey; and
which infused something like awe into the attachment of his most devoted followers. Such a combination, in which love
was tempered by authority, was the one probably best calculated to inspire devotion in the rough and turbulent spirits
among whom his lot was to be cast.

The character of Cortes seems to have undergone some change with change of circumstances; or to speak more
correctly, the new scenes in which he was placed called forth qualities which before lay dormant in his bosom. There
are some hardy natures that require the heats of excited action to unfold their energies; like the plants, which,
closed to the mild influence of a temperate latitude, come to their full growth, and give forth their fruits, only in
the burning atmosphere of the tropics.

Before the preparations were fully completed at the Havana, the commander of the place, Don Pedro Barba, received
despatches from Velasquez ordering him to apprehend Cortes, and to prevent the departure of his vessels; while another
epistle from the same source was delivered to Cortes himself, requesting him to postpone his voyage till the governor
could communicate with him, as he proposed, in person. “Never,” exclaims Las Casas, “did I see so little knowledge of
affairs shown, as in this letter of Diego Velasquez — that he should have imagined that a man, who had so recently put
such an affront on him, would defer his departure at his bidding!” It was, indeed, hoping to stay the flight of the
arrow by a word, after it had left the bow.

The captain-general, however, during his short stay had entirely conciliated the good will of Barba. And, if that
officer had had the inclination, he knew he had not the power, to enforce his principal’s orders, in the face of a
resolute soldiery, incensed at this ungenerous persecution of their commander, and “all of whom,” in the words of the
honest chronicler, Bernal Diaz, who bore part in the expedition, “officers and privates, would have cheerfully laid
down their lives for him.” Barba contented himself, therefore, with explaining to Velasquez the impracticability of the
attempt, and at the same time endeavoured to traquillise his apprehensions by asserting his own confidence in the
fidelity of Cortes. To this the latter added a communication of his own, in which he implored his Excellency to rely on
his devotion to his interests, and concluded with the comfortable assurance that he and the whole fleet, God willing,
would sail on the following morning.

Accordingly, on the 10th of February, 1519, the little squadron got under way, and directed its course towards Cape
St. Antonio, the appointed place of rendezvous. When all were brought together, the vessels were found to be eleven in
number; one of them, in which Cortes himself went, was of a hundred tons’ burden, three others were from seventy to
eighty tons, the remainder were caravels and open brigantines. The whole was put under the direction of Antonio de
Alaminos, as chief pilot; a veteran navigator, who, had acted as pilot to Columbus in his last voyage, and to Cordova
and Grijalva in the former expeditions to Yucatan.

Landing on the Cape and mustering his forces, Cortes found they amounted to one hundred and ten mariners, five
hundred and fifty-three soldiers, including thirty-two crossbow-men, and thirteen arquebusiers, besides two hundred
Indians of the island, and a few Indian women for menial offices. He was provided with ten heavy guns, four lighter
pieces called falconets, and with a good supply of ammunition. He had, besides, sixteen horses. They were not easily
procured; for the difficulty of transporting them across the ocean in the flimsy craft of that day made them rare and
incredibly dear in the islands. But Cortes rightfully estimated the importance of cavalry, however small in number,
both for their actual service in the field, and for striking terror into the savages. With so paltry a force did he
enter on a conquest which even his stout heart must have shrunk from attempting with such means, had he but foreseen
half its real difficulties!

Before embarking, Cortes addressed his soldiers in a short but animated harangue. He told them they were about to
enter on a noble enterprise, one that would make their name famous to after ages. He was leading them to countries more
vast and opulent than any yet visited by Europeans. “I hold out to you a glorious prize,” continued the orator, “but it
is to be won by incessant toil. Great things are achieved only by great exertions and glory was never the reward of
sloth. If I have laboured hard and staked my all on this undertaking, it is for the love of that renown, which is the
noblest recompense of man. But, if any among you covet riches more, be but true to me, as I will be true to you and to
the occasion, and I will make you masters of such as our countrymen have never dreamed of! You are few in number, but
strong in resolution; and, if this does not falter, doubt not but that the Almighty, who has never deserted the
Spaniard in his contest with the infidel, will shield you, though encompassed by a cloud of enemies; for your cause is
a just cause, and you are to fight under the banner of the Cross. Go forward then,” he concluded, “with alacrity and
confidence, and carry to a glorious issue the work so auspiciously begun.”

The rough eloquence of the general, touching the various chords of ambition, avarice, and religious zeal, sent a
thrill through the bosoms of his martial audience; and, receiving it with acclamations, they seemed eager to press
forward under a chief who was to lead them not so much to battle, as to triumph.

Cortes was well satisfied to find his own enthusiasm so largely shared by his followers. Mass was then celebrated
with the solemnities usual with the Spanish navigators, when entering on their voyages of discovery. The fleet was
placed under the immediate protection of St. Peter, the patron saint of Cortes; and, weighing anchor, took its
departure on the eighteenth day of February, 1519, for the coast of Yucatan.

Chapter IV 1519

VOYAGE TO COZUMEL— CONVERSION OF THE NATIVES— JERONIMO DE AGUILAR— ARMY ARRIVES AT TABASCO— GREAT
BATTLE WITH THE INDIANS— CHRISTIANITY INTRODUCED

ORDERS were given for the vessels to keep as near together as possible, and to take the direction of the capitana,
or admiral’s ship, which carried a beacon-light in the stern during the night. But the weather, which had been
favourable, changed soon after their departure, and one of those tempests set in, which at this season are often found
in the latitudes of the West Indies. It fell with terrible force on the little navy, scattering it far asunder,
dismantling some of the ships, and driving them all considerably south of their proposed destination.

Cortes, who had lingered behind to convoy a disabled vessel, reached the island of Cozumel last. On landing, he
learned that one of his captains, Pedro de Alvarado, had availed himself of the short time he had been there to enter
the temples, rifle them of their few ornaments, and, by his violent conduct, so far to terrify the simple natives, that
they had fled for refuge into the interior of the island. Cortes, highly incensed at these rash proceedings, so
contrary to the policy he had proposed, could not refrain from severely reprimanding his officer in the presence of the
army. He commanded two Indian captives, taken by Alvarado, to be brought before him, and explained to them the pacific
purpose of his visit. This he did through the assistance of his interpreter, Melchorejo, a native of Yucatan, who had
been brought back by Grijalva, and who, during his residence in Cuba, had picked up some acquaintance with the
Castilian. He then dismissed them loaded with presents, and with an invitation to their countrymen to return to their
homes without fear of further annoyance. This humane policy succeeded. The fugitives, reassured, were not slow in
coming back; and an amicable intercourse was established, in which Spanish cutlery and trinkets were exchanged for the
gold ornaments of the natives; a traffic in which each party congratulated itself — a philosopher might think with
equal reason — on outwitting the other.

The first object of Cortes was, to gather tidings of the unfortunate Christians who were reported to be still
lingering in captivity on the neighbouring continent. From some traders in the islands he obtained such a confirmation
of the report, that he sent Diego de Ordaz with two brigantines to the opposite coast of Yucatan, with instructions to
remain there eight days. Some Indians went as messengers in the vessels, who consented to bear a letter to the
captives, informing them of the arrival of their countrymen in Cozumel, with a liberal ransom for their release.
Meanwhile the general proposed to make an excursion to the different parts of the island, that he might give employment
to the restless spirits of the soldiers, and ascertain the resources of the country.

It was poor and thinly peopled. But everywhere he recognised the vestiges of a higher civilisation than what he had
before witnessed in the Indian islands. The houses were some of them large, and often built of stone and lime. He was
particularly struck with the temples, in which were towers constructed of the same solid materials, and rising several
stories in height.

In the court of one of these he was amazed by the sight of a cross, of stone and lime, about ten palms high. It was
the emblem of the God of rain. Its appearance suggested the wildest conjectures, not merely to the unlettered soldiers,
but subsequently to the European scholar, who speculated on the character of the races that had introduced there the
sacred symbol of Christianity. But no such inference, as we shall see hereafter, could be warranted. Yet it must be
regarded as a curious fact, that the Cross should have been venerated as the object of religious worship both in the
New World, and in regions of the Old, where the light of Christianity had never risen.

The next object of Cortes was to reclaim the natives from their gross idolatry, and to substitute a purer form of
worship. In accomplishing this he was prepared to use force, if milder measures should be ineffectual. There was
nothing which the Spanish government had more earnestly at heart, than the conversion of the Indians. It forms the
constant burden of their instructions, and gave to the military expeditions in this Western Hemisphere somewhat of the
air of a crusade. The cavalier who embarked in them entered fully into these chivalrous and devotional feelings. No
doubt was entertained of the efficacy of conversion, however sudden might be the change, or however violent the means.
The sword was a good argument when the tongue failed; and the spread of Mahometanism had shown that seeds sown by the
hand of violence, far from perishing in the ground, would spring up and bear fruit to after time. If this were so in a
bad cause, how much more would it be true in a good one! The Spanish cavalier felt he had a high mission to accomplish
as a soldier of the Cross. However unauthorised or unrighteous the war into which he had entered may seem to us, to him
it was a holy war. He was in arms against the infidel. Not to care for the soul of his benighted enemy was to put his
own in jeopardy. The conversion of a single soul might cover a multitude of sins. It was not for morals that he was
concerned, but for the faith. This, though understood in its most literal and limited sense, comprehended the whole
scheme of Christian morality. Whoever died in the faith, however immoral had been his life, might be said to die in the
Lord. Such was the creed of the Castilian knight of that day, as imbibed from the preachings of the pulpit, from
cloisters and colleges at home, from monks and missionaries abroad — from all save one, Las Casas, whose devotion,
kindled at a purer source, was not, alas! permitted to send forth its radiance far into the thick gloom by which he was
encompassed.

No one partook more fully of the feelings above described than Hernan Cortes. He was, in truth, the very mirror of
the times in which he lived, reflecting its motley characteristics, its speculative devotion, and practical licence —
but with an intensity all his own. He was greatly scandalised at the exhibition of the idolatrous practices of the
people of Cozumel, though untainted, as it would seem, with human sacrifices. He endeavoured to persuade them to
embrace a better faith, through the agency of two ecclesiastics who attended the expedition — the licentiate Juan Diaz
and Father Bartolome de Olmedo. The latter of these godly men afforded the rare example — rare in any age — of the
union of fervent zeal with charity, while he beautifully illustrated in his own conduct the precepts which he taught.
He remained with the army through the whole expedition, and by his wise and benevolent counsels was often enabled to
mitigate the cruelties of the Conquerors, and to turn aside the edge of the sword from the unfortunate natives.

These two missionaries vainly laboured to persuade the people of Cozumel to renounce their abominations, and to
allow the Indian idols, in which the Christians recognised the true lineaments of Satan, to be thrown down and
demolished. The simple natives, filled with horror at the proposed profanation, exclaimed that these were the gods who
sent them the sunshine and the storm, and, should any violence be offered, they would be sure to avenge it by sending
their lightnings on the heads of its perpetrators.

Cortes was probably not much of a polemic. At all events, he preferred on the present occasion action to argument;
and thought that the best way to convince the Indians of their error was to prove the falsehood of the prediction. He
accordingly, without further ceremony, caused the venerated images to be rolled down the stairs of the great temple,
amidst the groans and lamentations of the natives. An altar was hastily constructed, an image of the Virgin and Child
placed over it, and mass was performed by Father Olmedo and his reverend companion for the first time within the walls
of a temple in New Spain. The patient ministers tried once more to pour the light of the gospel into the benighted
understandings of the islanders, and to expound the mysteries of the Catholic faith. The Indian interpreter must have
afforded rather a dubious channel for the transmission of such abstruse doctrines. But they at length found favour with
their auditors, who, whether overawed by the bold bearing of the invaders, or convinced of the impotence of deities
that could not shield their own shrines from violation, now consented to embrace Christianity.

While Cortes was thus occupied with the triumphs of the Cross, he received intelligence that Ordaz had returned from
Yucatan without tidings of the Spanish captives. Though much chagrined, the general did not choose to postpone longer
his departure from Cozumel. The fleet had been well stored with provisions by the friendly inhabitants, and, embarking
his troops, Cortes, in the beginning of March, took leave of its hospitable shores. The squadron had not proceeded far,
however, before a leak in one of the vessels compelled them to return to the same port. The detention was attended with
important consequences; so much so, indeed, that a writer of the time discerns in it “a great mystery and a
miracle.”

Soon after landing, a canoe with several Indians was seen making its way from the neighbouring shores of Yucatan. On
reaching the island, one of the men inquired, in broken Castilian, “if he were among Christians”; and being answered in
the affirmative, threw himself on his knees and returned thanks to Heaven for his delivery. He was one of the
unfortunate captives for whose fate so much interest had been felt. His name was Jeronimo de Aguilar, a native of
Ecija, in Old Spain, where he had been regularly educated for the church. He had been established with the colony at
Darien, and on a voyage from that place to Hispaniola, eight years previous, was wrecked near the coast of Yucatan. He
escaped with several of his companions in the ship’s boat, where some perished from hunger and exposure, while others
were sacrificed, on their reaching land, by the cannibal natives of the peninsula. Aguilar was preserved from the same
dismal fate by escaping into the interior, where he fell into the hands of a powerful cacique, who, though he spared
his life, treated him at first with great rigour. The patience of the captive, however, and his singular humility,
touched the better feelings of the chieftain, who would have persuaded Aguilar to take a wife among his people, but the
ecclesiastic steadily refused, in obedience to his vows. This admirable constancy excited the distrust of the cacique,
who put his virtue to a severe test by various temptations, and much of the same sort as those with which the devil is
said to have assailed St. Anthony. From all these fiery trials, however, like his ghostly predecessor, he came out
unscorched. Continence is too rare and difficult a virtue with barbarians not to challenge their veneration, and the
practice of it has made the reputation of more than one saint in the Old as well as the New World. Aguilar was now
intrusted with the care of his master’s household and his numerous wives. He was a man of discretion, as well as
virtue; and his counsels were found so salutary that he was consulted on all important matters. In short, Aguilar
became a great man among the Indians.

It was with much regret, therefore, that his master received the proposals for his return to his countrymen, to
which nothing but the rich treasure of glass beads, hawk bells, and other jewels of like value, sent for his ransom,
would have induced him to consent. When Aguilar reached the coast, there had been so much delay that the brigantines
had sailed, and it was owing to the fortunate return of the fleet to Cozumel that he was enabled to join it.

On appearing before Cortes, the poor man saluted him in the Indian style, by touching the earth with his hand, and
carrying it to his head. The commander, raising him up, affectionately embraced him, covering him at the same time with
his own cloak, as Aguilar was simply clad in the habiliments of the country, somewhat too scanty for a European eye. It
was long, indeed, before the tastes which he had acquired in the freedom of the forest could be reconciled to the
constraints either of dress or manners imposed by the artificial forms of civilisation. Aguilar’s long residence in the
country had familiarised him with the Mayan dialects of Yucatan, and, as he gradually revived his Castilian, he became
of essential importance as an interpreter. Cortes saw the advantage of this from the first, but he could not fully
estimate all the consequences that were to flow from it.

The repairs of the vessels being at length completed, the Spanish commander once more took leave of the friendly
natives of Cozumel, and set sail on the 4th of March. Keeping as near as possible to the coast of Yucatan, he doubled
Cape Catoche, and with flowing sheets swept down the broad bay of Campeachy. He passed Potonchan, where Cordova had
experienced a rough reception from the natives; and soon after reached the mouth of the Rio de Tabasco, or Grijalva, in
which that navigator had carried on so lucrative a traffic. Though mindful of the great object of his voyage — the
visit to the Aztec territories — he was desirous of acquainting himself with the resources of this country, and
determined to ascend the river and visit the great town on its borders.

The water was so shallow, from the accumulation of sand at the mouth of the stream, that the general was obliged to
leave the ships at anchor, and to embark in the boats with a part only of his forces. The banks were thickly studded
with mangrove trees, that, with their roots shooting up and interlacing one another, formed a kind of impervious screen
or net-work, behind which the dark forms of the natives were seen glancing to and fro with the most menacing looks and
gestures. Cortes, much surprised at these unfriendly demonstrations, so unlike what he had reason to expect, moved
cautiously up the stream. When he had reached an open place, where a large number of Indians were assembled, he asked,
through his interpreter, leave to land, explaining at the same time his amicable intentions. But the Indians,
brandishing their weapons, answered only with gestures of angry defiance. Though much chagrined, Cortes thought it best
not to urge the matter further that evening, but withdrew to a neighbouring island, where he disembarked his troops,
resolved to effect a landing on the following morning.

When day broke the Spaniards saw the opposite banks lined with a much more numerous array than on the preceding
evening, while the canoes along the shore were filled with bands of armed warriors. Cortes now made his preparations
for the attack. He first landed a detachment of a hundred men under Alonso de Avila, at a point somewhat lower down the
stream, sheltered by a thick grove of palms, from which a road, as he knew, led to the town of Tabasco, giving orders
to his officer to march at once on the place, while he himself advanced to assault it in front.

Then embarking the remainder of his troops, Cortes crossed the river in face of the enemy; but, before commencing
hostilities, that he might “act with entire regard to justice, and in obedience to the instructions of the Royal
Council,” he first caused proclamation to be made through the interpreter, that he desired only a free passage for his
men; and that he proposed to revive the friendly relations which had formerly subsisted between his countrymen and the
natives. He assured them that if blood were spilt, the sin would he on their heads, and that resistance would be
useless, since he was resolved at all hazards to take up his quarters that night in the town of Tabasco. This
proclamation, delivered in lofty tone, and duly recorded by the notary, was answered by the Indians — who might
possibly have comprehended one word in ten of it — with shouts of defiance and a shower of arrows.

Cortes, having now complied with all the requisitions of a loyal cavalier, and shifted the responsibility from his
own shoulders to those of the Royal Council, brought his boats alongside of the Indian canoes. They grappled fiercely
together and both parties were soon in the water, which rose above the girdle. The struggle was not long, though
desperate. The superior strength of the Europeans prevailed, and they forced the enemy back to land. Here, however,
they were supported by their countrymen, who showered down darts, arrows, and blazing billets of wood on the heads of
the invaders. The banks were soft and slippery, and it was with difficulty the soldiers made good their footing. Cortes
lost a sandal in the mud, but continued to fight barefoot, with great exposure of his person, as the Indians, who soon
singled out the leader, called to one another, “Strike at the chief!”

At length the Spaniards gained the bank, and were able to come into something like order, when they opened a brisk
fire from their arquebuses and crossbows. The enemy, astounded by the roar and flash of the firearms, of which they had
had no experience, fell back, and retreated behind a breastwork of timber thrown across the way. The Spaniards, hot in
the pursuit, soon carried these rude defences, and drove the Tabascans before them towards the town, where they again
took shelter behind their palisades.

Meanwhile Avila had arrived from the opposite quarter, and the natives taken by surprise made no further attempt at
resistance, but abandoned the place to the Christians. They had previously removed their families and effects. Some
provisions fell into the hands of the victors, but little gold, “a circumstance,” says Las Casas, “which gave them no
particular satisfaction.” It was a very populous place. The houses were mostly of mud; the better sort of stone and
lime; affording proofs in the inhabitants of a superior refinement to that found in the islands, as their stout
resistance had given evidence of superior valour.

Cortes, having thus made himself master of the town, took formal possession of it for the crown of Castile. He gave
three cuts with his sword on a large ceiba tree, which grew in the place, and proclaimed aloud, that he took possession
of the city in the name and on behalf of the Catholic sovereigns, and would maintain and defend the same with sword and
buckler against all who should gainsay it. The same vaunting declaration was also made by the soldiers, and the whole
was duly recorded and attested by the notary. This was the usual simple but chivalric form with which the Spanish
cavaliers asserted the royal title to the conquered territories in the New World. It was a good title, doubtless,
against the claims of any other European potentate.

The general took up his quarters that night in the courtyard of the principal temple. He posted his sentinels, and
took all the precautions practised in wars with a civilised foe. Indeed, there was reason for them. A suspicious
silence seemed to reign through the place and its neighbourhood; and tidings were brought that the interpreter,
Melchorejo, had fled, leaving his Spanish dress hanging on a tree. Cortes was disquieted by the desertion of this man
who would not only inform his countrymen of the small number of the Spaniards, but dissipate any illusions that might
be entertained of their superior natures.

On the following morning, as no traces of the enemy were visible, Cortes ordered out a detachment under Alvarado,
and another under Francisco de Lugo, to reconnoitre. The latter officer had not advanced a league before he learned the
position of the Indians, by their attacking him in such force that he was fain to take shelter in a large stone
building, where he was closely besieged. Fortunately the loud yells of the assailants, like most barbarous nations,
seeking to strike terror by their ferocious cries, reached the ears of Alvarado and his men, who, speedily advancing to
the relief of their comrades, enabled them to force a passage through the enemy. Both parties retreated closely
pursued, on the town, when Cortes, marching out to their support, compelled the Tabascans to retire.

A few prisoners were taken in this skirmish. By them Cortes found his worst apprehensions verified. The country was
everywhere in arms. A force consisting of many thousands had assembled from the neighbouring provinces, and a general
assault was resolved on for the next day. To the general’s inquiries why he had been received in so different a manner
from his predecessor, Grijalva, they answered, that “the conduct of the Tabascans then had given great offence to the
other Indian tribes, who taxed them with treachery and cowardice; so that they had promised, on any return of the white
men, to resist them in the same manner as their neighbours had done.”

Cortes might now well regret that he had allowed himself to deviate from the direct object of his enterprise, and to
become intangled in a doubtful war which could lead to no profitable result. But it was too late to repent. He had
taken the step, and had no alternative but to go forward. To retreat would dishearten his own men at the outset, impair
their confidence in him as their leader, and confirm the arrogance of his foes, the tidings of whose success might
precede him on his voyage, and prepare the way for greater mortifications and defeats. He did not hesitate as to the
course he was to pursue; but, calling his officers together, announced his intention to give battle the following
morning.

He sent back to the vessels such as were disabled by their wounds, and ordered the remainder of the forces to join
the camp. Six of the heavy guns were also taken from the ships, together with all the horses. The animals were stiff
and torpid from long confinement on board; but a few hours’ exercise restored them to their strength and usual spirit.
He gave the command of the artillery — if it may be dignified with the name — to a soldier named Mesa, who had acquired
some experience as an engineer in the Italian wars. The infantry he put under the orders of Diego de Ordaz, and took
charge of the cavalry himself. It consisted of some of the most valiant gentlemen of his little band, among whom may be
mentioned Alvarado, Velasquez de Leon, Avila, Puertocarrero, Olid, Montejo. Having thus made all the necessary
arrangements, and settled his plan of battle, he retired to rest — but not to slumber. His feverish mind, as may well
be imagined, was filled with anxiety for the morrow, which might decide the fate of his expedition; and as was his wont
on such occasions, he was frequently observed, during the night, going the rounds, and visiting the sentinels, to see
that no one slept upon his post.

At the first glimmering of light he mustered his army, and declared his purpose not to abide, cooped up in the town,
the assault of the enemy, but to march at once against him. For he well knew that the spirits rise with action, and
that the attacking party gathers a confidence from the very movement, which is not felt by the one who is passively,
perhaps anxiously, awaiting the assault. The Indians were understood to be encamped on a level ground a few miles
distant from the city, called the plain of Ceutla. The general commanded that Ordaz should march with the foot,
including the artillery, directly across the country, and attack them in front, while he himself would fetch a circuit
with the horse, and turn their flank when thus engaged, or fall upon their rear.

These dispositions being completed, the little army heard mass and then sallied forth from the wooden walls of
Tabasco. It was Lady-day, the 25th of March — long memorable in the annals of New Spain. The district around the town
was chequered with patches of maize, and, on the lower level, with plantations of cacao — supplying the beverage, and
perhaps the coin of the country, as in Mexico. These plantations, requiring constant irrigation, were fed by numerous
canals and reservoirs of water, so that the country could not be traversed without great toil and difficulty. It was,
however, intersected by a narrow path or causeway, over which the cannon could be dragged.

The troops advanced more than a league on their laborious march, without descrying the enemy. The weather was
sultry, but few of them were embarrassed by the heavy mail worn by the European cavaliers at that period. Their cotton
jackets, thickly quilted, afforded a tolerable protection against the arrows of the Indian, and allowed room for the
freedom and activity of movement essential to a life of rambling adventure in the wilderness.

At length they came in sight of the broad plains of Ceutla, and beheld the dusky lines of the enemy stretching, as
far as the eye could reach, along the edge of the horizon. The Indians had shown some sagacity in the choice of their
position; and, as the weary Spaniards came slowly on, floundering through the morass, the Tabascans set up their
hideous battle-cries, and discharged volleys of arrows, stones, and other missiles, which rattled like hail on the
shields and helmets of the assailants. Many were severely wounded before they could gain the firm ground, where they
soon cleared a space for themselves, and opened a heavy fire of artillery and musketry on the dense columns of the
enemy, which presented a fatal mark for the balls. Numbers were swept down at every discharge; but the bold barbarians,
far from being dismayed, threw up dust and leaves to hide their losses, and, sounding their war instruments, shot off
fresh flights of arrows in return.

They even pressed closer on the Spaniards, and, when driven off by a vigorous charge, soon turned again, and,
rolling back like the waves of the ocean, seemed ready to overwhelm the little band by weight of numbers. Thus cramped,
the latter had scarcely room to perform their necessary evolutions, or even to work their guns with effect.

The engagement had now lasted more than an hour, and the Spaniards, sorely pressed, looked with great anxiety for
the arrival of the horse — which some unaccountable impediments must have detained — to relieve them from their
perilous position. At this crisis, the furthest columns of the Indian army were seen to be agitated and thrown into a
disorder that rapidly spread through the whole mass. It was not long before the ears of the Christians were saluted
with the cheering war-cry of “San Jago and San Pedro,” and they beheld the bright helmets and swords of the Castilian
chivalry flashing back the rays of the morning sun, as they dashed through the ranks of the enemy, striking to the
right and left, and scattering dismay around them. The eye of faith, indeed, could discern the patron Saint of Spain
himself, mounted on his grey war-horse, heading the rescue and trampling over the bodies of the fallen infidels!

The approach of Cortes had been greatly retarded by the broken nature of the ground. When he came up, the Indians
were so hotly engaged, that he was upon them before they observed his approach. He ordered his men to direct their
lances at the faces of their opponents, who, terrified at the monstrous apparition — for they supposed the rider and
the horse, which they had never before seen, to be one and the same — were seized with a panic. Ordaz availed himself
of it to command a general charge along the line, and the Indians, many of them throwing away their arms, fled without
attempting further resistance.

Cortes was too content with the victory, to care to follow it up by dipping his sword in the blood of the fugitives.
He drew off his men to a copse of palms which skirted the place, and, under their broad canopy, the soldiers offered up
thanksgivings to the Almighty for the victory vouchsafed them. The field of battle was made the site of a town, called
in honour of the day on which the action took place, Santa Maria de la Vitoria, long afterwards the capital of the
province. The number of those who fought or fell in the engagement is altogether doubtful. Nothing, indeed, is more
uncertain than numerical estimates of barbarians. And they gain nothing in probability, when they come, as in the
present instance, from the reports of their enemies. Most accounts, however, agree that the Indian force consisted of
five squadrons of eight thousand men each. There is more discrepancy as to the number of slain, varying from one to
thirty thousand! In this monstrous discordance, the common disposition to exaggerate may lead us to look for truth in
the neighbourhood of the smallest number. The loss of the Christians was inconsiderable; not exceeding — if we receive
their own reports, probably, from the same causes, much diminishing the truth — two killed, and less than a hundred
wounded! We may readily comprehend the feelings of the Conquerors, when they declared, that “Heaven must have fought on
their side, since their own strength could never have prevailed against such a multitude of enemies!”

Several prisoners were taken in the battle, among them two chiefs. Cortes gave them their liberty, and sent a
message by them to their countrymen, “that he would overlook the past, if they would come in at once, and tender their
submission. Otherwise he would ride over the land, and put every living thing in it, man, woman, and child, to the
sword!” With this formidable menace ringing in their ears, the envoys departed.

But the Tabascans had no relish for further hostilities. A body of inferior chiefs appeared the next day, clad in
dark dresses of cotton, intimating their abject condition, and implored leave to bury their dead. It was granted by the
general, with many assurances of his friendly disposition; but at the same time he told them, he expected their
principal caciques, as he would treat with none other. These soon presented themselves, attended by a numerous train of
vassals, who followed with timid curiosity to the Christian camp. Among their propitiatory gifts were twenty female
slaves, which, from the character of one of them, proved of infinitely more consequence than was anticipated by either
Spaniards or Tabascans. Confidence was soon restored; and was succeeded by a friendly intercourse, and the interchange
of Spanish toys for the rude commodities of the country, articles of food, cotton, and a few gold ornaments of little
value. When asked where the precious metal was procured, they pointed to the west, and answered “Culhua,” “Mexico.” The
Spaniards saw this was no place for them to traffic, or to tarry in. — Yet here, they were not many leagues distant
from a potent and opulent city, or what once had been so, the ancient Palenque. But its glory may have even then passed
away, and its name have been forgotten by the surrounding nations.

Before his departure the Spanish commander did not omit to provide for one great object of his expedition, the
conversion of the Indians. He first represented to the caciques, that he had been sent thither by a powerful monarch on
the other side of the water, to whom he had now a right to claim their allegiance. He then caused the reverend fathers
Olmedo and Diaz to enlighten their minds, as far as possible, in regard to the great truths of revelation, urging them
to receive these in place of their own heathenish abominations. The Tabascans, whose perceptions were no doubt
materially quickened by the discipline they had undergone, made but a faint resistance to either proposal. The next day
was Palm Sunday, and the general resolved to celebrate their conversion by one of those pompous ceremonials of the
Church, which should make a lasting impression on their minds.

A solemn procession was formed of the whole army with the ecclesiastics at their head, each soldier bearing a palm
branch in his hand. The concourse was swelled by thousands of Indians of both sexes, who followed in curious
astonishment at the spectacle. The long files bent their way through the flowery savannas that bordered the settlement,
to the principal temple, where an altar was raised, and the image of the presiding deity was deposed to make room for
that of the Virgin with the infant Saviour. Mass was celebrated by Father Olmedo, and the soldiers who were capable
joined in the solemn chant. The natives listened in profound silence, and if we may believe the chronicler of the event
who witnessed it, were melted into tears; while their hearts were penetrated with reverential awe for the God of those
terrible beings who seemed to wield in their own hands the thunder and the lightning.

These solemnities concluded, Cortes prepared to return to his ships, well satisfied with the impression made on the
new converts, and with the conquests he had thus achieved for Castile and Christianity. The soldiers, taking leave of
their Indian friends, entered the boats with the palm branches in their hands, and descending the river re-embarked on
board their vessels, which rode at anchor at its mouth. A favourable breeze was blowing, and the little navy, opening
its sails to receive it, was soon on its way again to the golden shores of Mexico.

Chapter V 1519

VOYAGE ALONG THE COAST— DONA MARINA— SPANIARDS LAND IN MEXICO— INTERVIEW WITH THE AZTECS

THE fleet held its course so near the shore, that the inhabitants could be seen on it; and, as it swept along the
winding borders of the gulf, the soldiers, who had been on the former expedition with Grijalva, pointed out to their
companions the memorable places on the coast. Here was the Rio de Alvarado, named after the gallant adventurer, who was
present, also, in this expedition; there the Rio de Vanderas, in which Grijalva had carried on so lucrative a commerce
with the Mexicans; and there the Isla de los Sacrificios, where the Spaniards first saw the vestiges of human sacrifice
on the coast.

The fleet had now arrived off St. Juan de Ulua, the island so named by Grijalva. The weather was temperate and
serene, and crowds of natives were gathered on the shore of the main land, gazing at the strange phenomenon, as the
vessels glided along under easy sail on the smooth bosom of the waters. It was the evening of Thursday in Passion Week.
The air came pleasantly off the shore, and Cortes, liking the spot, thought he might safely anchor under the lee of the
island, which would shelter him from the nortes that sweep over these seas with fatal violence in the winter, sometimes
even late in the spring.

The ships had not been long at anchor, when a light pirogue, filled with natives, shot off from the neighbouring
continent, and steered for the general’s vessel, distinguished by the royal ensign of Castile floating from the mast.
The Indians came on board with a frank confidence, inspired by the accounts of the Spaniards spread by their countrymen
who had traded with Grijalva. They brought presents of fruits and flowers and little ornaments of gold, which they
gladly exchanged for the usual trinkets. Cortes was baffled in his attempts to hold a conversation with his visitors by
means of the interpreter, Aguilar, who was ignorant of the language; the Mayan dialects, with which he was conversant,
bearing too little resemblance to the Aztec. The natives supplied the deficiency, as far as possible, by the uncommon
vivacity and significance of their gestures — the hieroglyphics of speech — but the Spanish commander saw with chagrin
the embarrassments he must encounter in future for want of a more perfect medium of communication. In this dilemma, he
was informed that one of the female slaves given to him by the Tabascan chiefs was a native Mexican, and understood the
language. Her name — that given to her by the Spaniards — was Marina; and, as she was to exercise a most important
influence on their fortunes, it is necessary to acquaint the reader with something of her character and history.

She was born at Painalla, in the province of Coatzacualco, on the south-eastern borders of the Mexican empire. Her
father, a rich and powerful cacique, died when she was very young. Her mother married again, and, having a son, she
conceived the infamous idea of securing to this offspring of her second union Marina’s rightful inheritance. She
accordingly feigned that the latter was dead, but secretly delivered her into the hands of some itinerant traders of
Xicallanco. She availed herself, at the same time, of the death of a child of one of her slaves, to substitute the
corpse for that of her own daughter, and celebrated the obsequies with mock solemnity. These particulars are related by
the honest old soldier, Bernal Diaz, who knew the mother, and witnessed the generous treatment of her afterwards by
Marina. By the merchants the Indian maiden was again sold to the cacique of Tabasco, who delivered her, as we have
seen, to the Spaniards.

From the place of her birth she was well acquainted with the Mexican tongue, which, indeed, she is said to have
spoken with great elegance. Her residence in Tabasco familiarised her with the dialects of that country, so that she
could carry on a conversation with Aguilar, which he in turn rendered into the Castilian. Thus a certain, though
somewhat circuitous channel was opened to Cortes for communicating with the Aztecs; a circumstance of the last
importance to the success of his enterprise. It was not very long, however, before Marina, who had a lively genius,
made herself so far mistress of the Castilian as to supersede the necessity of any other linguist. She learned it the
more readily, as it was to her the language of love: Cortes, who appreciated the value of her services from the first,
made her his interpreter, then his secretary, and, won by her charms, his mistress.

With the aid of his two intelligent interpreters, Cortes entered into conversation with his Indian visitors. He
learned that they were Mexicans, or rather subjects of the great Mexican empire, of which their own province formed one
of the comparatively recent conquests. The country was ruled by a powerful monarch, called Moctheuzoma, or by Europeans
more commonly Montezuma, who dwelt on the mountain plains of the interior, nearly seventy leagues from the coast; their
own province was governed by one of his nobles, named Teuhtlile, whose residence was eight leagues distant. Cortes
acquainted them in turn with his own friendly views in visiting their country, and with his desire of an interview with
the Aztec governor. He then dismissed them loaded with presents, having first ascertained that there was abundance of
gold in the interior, like the specimens they had brought.

Cortes, pleased with the manners of the people, and the goodly reports of the land, resolved to take up his quarters
here for the present. The next morning, April 21, being Good Friday, he landed with all his force, on the very spot
where now stands the modern city of Vera Cruz. Little did the Conqueror imagine that the desolate beach, on which he
first planted his foot, was one day to be covered by a flourishing city, the great mart of European and Oriental trade,
the commercial capital of New Spain.

It was a wide and level plain, except where the sand had been drifted into hillocks by the perpetual blowing of the
norte. On these sand-hills he mounted his little battery of guns, so as to give him the command of the country. He then
employed the troops in cutting down small trees and bushes which grew near, in order to provide a shelter from the
weather. In this he was aided by the people of the country, sent, as it appeared, by the governor of the district, to
assist the Spaniards. With their help stakes were firmly set in the earth, and covered with boughs, and with mats and
cotton carpets, which the friendly natives brought with them. In this way they secured, in a couple of days, a good
defence against the scorching rays of the sun, which beat with intolerable fierceness on the sands. The place was
surrounded by stagnant marshes, the exhalations from which, quickened by the heat into the pestilent malaria, have
occasioned in later times wider mortality to Europeans than all the hurricanes on the coast. The bilious disorders, now
the terrible scourge of the tierra caliente, were little known before the Conquest. The seeds of the poison seem to
have been scattered by the hand of civilisation; for it is only necessary to settle a town, and draw together a busy
European population, in order to call out the malignity of the venom which had before lurked in the atmosphere.

While these arrangements were in progress, the natives flocked in from the adjacent district, which was tolerably
populous in the interior, drawn by a natural curiosity to see the wonderful strangers. They brought with them fruits,
vegetables, flowers in abundance, game, and many dishes cooked after the fashion of the country, with little articles
of gold and other ornaments. They gave away some as presents, and bartered others for the wares of the Spaniards; so
that the camp, crowded with a motley throng of every age and sex, wore the appearance of a fair. From some of the
visitors Cortes learned the intention of the governor to wait on him the following day.

This was Easter. Teuhtlile arrived, as he had announced, before noon. He was attended by a numerous train, and was
met by Cortes, who conducted him with much ceremony to his tent, where his principal officers were assembled. The Aztec
chief returned their salutations with polite, though formal courtesy. Mass was first said by father Olmedo, and the
service was listened to by Teuhtlile and his attendants with decent reverence. A collation was afterwards served, at
which the general entertained his guest with Spanish wines and confections. The interpreters were then introduced, and
a conversation commenced between the parties.

The first inquiries of Teuhtlile were respecting the country of the strangers, and the purport of their visit.
Cortes told him, that “he was the subject of a potent monarch beyond the seas, who ruled over an immense empire, and
had kings and princes for his vassals! that, acquainted with the greatness of the Mexican emperor, his master had
desired to enter into a communication with him, and had sent him as his envoy to wait on Montezuma with a present in
token of his good will, and a message which he must deliver in person.” He concluded by inquiring of Teuhtlile when he
could be admitted to his sovereign’s presence.

To this the Aztec noble somewhat haughtily replied, “How is it, that you have been here only two days, and demand to
see the emperor?” He then added, with more courtesy, that “he was surprised to learn there was another monarch as
powerful as Montezuma; but that if it were so, he had no doubt his master would be happy to communicate with him. He
would send his couriers with the royal gift brought by the Spanish commander, and, so soon as he had learned
Montezuma’s will, would communicate it.”

Teuhtlile then commanded his slaves to bring forward the present intended for the Spanish general. It consisted of
ten loads of fine cotton, several mantles of that curious feather-work whose rich and delicate dyes might vie with the
most beautiful painting, and a wicker basket filled with ornaments of wrought gold, all calculated to inspire the
Spaniards with high ideas of the wealth and mechanical ingenuity of the Mexicans.

Cortes received these presents with suitable acknowledgments, and ordered his own attendants to lay before the chief
the articles designed for Montezuma. These were an arm-chair richly carved and painted, a crimson cap of cloth, having
a gold medal emblazoned with St. George and the dragon, and a quantity of collars, bracelets, and other ornaments of
cut glass, which, in a country where glass was not to be had, might claim to have the value of real gems, and no doubt
passed for such with the inexperienced Mexicans. Teuhtlile observed a soldier in the camp with a shining gilt helmet on
his head, which he said reminded him of one worn by the god Quetzalcoatl in Mexico; and he showed a desire that
Montezuma should see it. The coming of the Spaniards, as the reader will soon see, was associated with some traditions
of this same deity. Cortes expressed his willingness that the casque should be sent to the emperor, intimating a hope
that it would be returned filled with the gold dust of the country, that he might be able to compare its quality with
that in his own! He further told the governor, as we are informed by his chaplain, “that the Spaniards were troubled
with a disease of the heart, for which gold was a specific remedy!” “In short,” says Las Casas, “he contrived to make
his want of gold very clear to the governor.”

While these things were passing, Cortes observed one of Teuhtlile’s attendants busy with a pencil, apparently
delineating some object. On looking at his work, he found that it was a sketch on canvas of the Spaniards, their
costumes, arms, and, in short, different objects of interest, giving to each its appropriate form and colour. This was
the celebrated picture-writing of the Aztecs, and, as Teuhtlile informed him, this man was employed in portraying the
various objects for the eye of Montezuma, who would thus gather a more vivid notion of their appearance than from any
description by words. Cortes was pleased with the idea; and, as he knew how much the effect would be heightened by
converting still life into action, he ordered out the cavalry on the beach, the wet sands of which afforded a firm
footing for the horses. The bold and rapid movements of the troops, as they went through their military exercises; the
apparent ease with which they managed the fiery animals on which they were mounted; the glancing of their weapons, and
the shrill cry of the trumpet, all filled the spectators with astonishment; but when they heard the thunders of the
cannon, which Cortes ordered to be fired at the same time, and witnessed the volumes of smoke and flame issuing from
these terrible engines, and the rushing sound of the balls, as they dashed through the trees of the neighbouring
forest, shivering their branches into fragments, they were filled with consternation, from which the Aztec chief
himself was not wholly free.

Nothing of all this was lost on the painters, who faithfully recorded, after their fashion, every particular; not
omitting the ships — “the water-houses,” as they called them, of the strangers — which, with their dark hulls and
snow-white sails reflected from the water, were swinging lazily at anchor on the calm bosom of the bay. All was
depicted with a fidelity, that excited in their turn the admiration of the Spaniards, who, doubtless unprepared for
this exhibition of skill, greatly overestimated the merits of the execution.

These various matters completed, Teuhtlile with his attendants withdrew from the Spanish quarters, with the same
ceremony with which he had entered them; leaving orders that his people should supply the troops with provisions and
other articles requisite for their accommodation, till further instructions from the capital.

Chapter VI 1519

ACCOUNT OF MONTEZUMA— STATE OF HIS EMPIRE— STRANGE PROGNOSTICS— EMBASSY AND PRESENTS— SPANISH
ENCAMPMENT

WE must now take leave of the Spanish camp in the tierra caliente, and transport ourselves to the distant capital of
Mexico, where no little sensation was excited by the arrival of the wonderful strangers on the coast. The Aztec throne
was filled at that time by Montezuma the Second, nephew of the last, and grandson of a preceding monarch. He had been
elected to the regal dignity in 1502, in preference to his brothers, for his superior qualifications, both as a soldier
and a priest — a combination of offices sometimes found in the Mexican candidates, as it was, more frequently, in the
Egyptian. In early youth he had taken an active part in the wars of the empire, though of late he had devoted himself
more exclusively to the services of the temple; and he was scrupulous in his attentions to all the burdensome
ceremonial of the Aztec worship. He maintained a grave and reserved demeanour, speaking little and with prudent
deliberation. His deportment was well calculated to inspire ideas of superior sanctity.

Montezuma displayed all the energy and enterprise in the commencement of his reign, which had been anticipated from
him. His first expedition against a rebel province in the neighbourhood was crowned with success, and he led back in
triumph a throng of captives for the bloody sacrifice that was to grace his coronation. This was celebrated with
uncommon pomp. Games and religious ceremonies continued for several days, and among the spectators who flocked from
distant quarters were some noble Tlascalans, the hereditary enemies of Mexico. They were in disguise, hoping thus to
elude detection. They were recognised, however, and reported to the monarch. But he only availed himself of the
information to provide them with honourable entertainment, and a good place for witnessing the games. This was a
magnanimous act, considering the long cherished hostility between the nations.

In his first years, Montezuma was constantly engaged in war, and frequently led his armies in person. The Aztec
banners were seen in the furthest provinces of the Gulf of Mexico, and the distant regions of Nicaragua and Honduras.
The expeditions were generally successful; and the limits of the empire were more widely extended that at any preceding
period.

Meanwhile the monarch was not inattentive to the interior concerns of the kingdom. He made some important changes in
the courts of justice; and carefully watched over the execution of the laws, which he enforced with stern severity. He
was in the habit of patrolling the streets of his capital in disguise, to make himself personally acquainted with the
abuses in it. And with more questionable policy, it is said, he would sometimes try the integrity of his judges by
tempting them with large bribes to swerve from their duty, and then call the delinquent to strict account for yielding
to the temptation.

He liberally recompensed all who served him. He showed a similar munificent spirit in his public works, constructing
and embellishing the temples, bringing water into the capital by a new channel, and establishing a hospital, or retreat
for invalid soldiers, in the city of Colhuacan.

These acts, so worthy of a great prince, were counterbalanced by others of an opposite complexion. The humility,
displayed so ostentatiously before his elevation, gave way to an intolerable arrogance. In his pleasure-houses,
domestic establishment, and way of living, he assumed a pomp unknown to his predecessors. He secluded himself from
public observation, or, when he went abroad, exacted the most slavish homage; while in the palace he would be served
only, even in the most menial offices, by persons of rank. He, further, dismissed several plebeians, chiefly poor
soldiers of merit, from the places they had occupied near the person of his predecessor, considering their attendance a
dishonour to royalty. It was in vain that his oldest and sagest counsellors remonstrated on a conduct so impolitic.

While he thus disgusted his subjects by his haughty deportment, he alienated their affections by the imposition of
grievous taxes. These were demanded by the lavish expenditure of his court. They fell with peculiar heaviness on the
conquered cities. This oppression led to frequent insurrection and resistance; and the latter years of his reign
present a scene of unintermitting hostility, in which the forces of one half of the empire were employed in suppressing
the commotions of the other. Unfortunately there was no principle of amalgamation by which the new acquisitions could
be incorporated into the ancient monarchy, as parts of one whole. Their interests, as well as sympathies, were
different. Thus the more widely the Aztec empire was extended, the weaker it became, resembling some vast and
ill-proportioned edifice, whose disjointed materials having no principle of cohesion, and tottering under their own
weight, seem ready to fall before the first blast of the tempest.

In 1516, died the Tezcucan king, Nezahualpilli, in whom Montezuma lost his most sagacious counsellor. The succession
was contested by his two sons, Cacama and Ixtlilxochitl. The former was supported by Montezuma. The latter, the younger
of the princes, a bold, aspiring youth, appealing to the patriotic sentiment of his nation, would have persuaded them
that his brother was too much in the Mexican interests to be true to his own country. A civil war ensued, and ended by
a compromise, by which one half of the kingdom, with the capital, remained to Cacama, and the northern portion to his
ambitious rival. Ixtlilxochitl became from that time the mortal foe of Montezuma.

A more formidable enemy still was the little republic of Tlascala, lying midway between the Mexican Valley and the
coast. It had maintained its independence for more than two centuries against the allied forces of the empire. Its
resources were unimpaired, its civilisation scarcely below that of its great rival states, and for courage and military
prowess it had established a name inferior to none other of the nations of Anahuac.

Such was the condition of the Aztec monarchy, on the arrival of Cortes; — the people disgusted with the arrogance of
the sovereign; the provinces and distant cities outraged by fiscal exactions; while potent enemies in the neighbourhood
lay watching the hour when they might assail their formidable rival with advantage. Still the kingdom was strong in its
internal resources, in the will of its monarch, in the long habitual deference to his authority — in short, in the
terror of his name, and in the valour and discipline of his armies, grown grey in active service, and well drilled in
all the tactics of Indian warfare. The time had now come when these imperfect tactics and rude weapons of the barbarian
were to be brought into collision with the science and enginery of the most civilised nations of the globe.

During the latter years of his reign, Montezuma had rarely taken part in his military expeditions, which he left to
his captains, occupying himself chiefly with his sacerdotal functions. Under no prince had the priesthood enjoyed
greater consideration and immunities. The religious festivals and rites were celebrated with unprecedented pomp. The
oracles were consulted on the most trivial occasions; and the sanguinary deities were propitiated by hecatombs of
victims dragged in triumph to the capital from the conquered or rebellious provinces. The religion, or, to speak
correctly, the superstition of Montezuma proved a principal cause of his calamities.

In a preceding chapter I have noticed the popular traditions respecting Quetzalcoatl, that deity with a fair
complexion and flowing beard, so unlike the Indian physiognomy, who, after fulfilling his mission of benevolence among
the Aztecs, embarked on the Atlantic Sea for the mysterious shores of Tlapallan. He promised, on his departure, to
return at some future day with his posterity, and resume the possession of his empire. That day was looked forward to
with hope or with apprehension, according to the interest of the believer, but with general confidence throughout the
wide borders of Anahuac. Even after the Conquest, it still lingered among the Indian races, by whom it was as fondly
cherished, as the advent of their king Sebastian continued to be by the Portuguese, or that of the Messiah by the
Jews.

A general feeling seems to have prevailed in the time of Montezuma, that the period for the return of the deity, and
the full accomplishment of his promise, was near at hand. This conviction is said to have gained ground from various
preternatural occurrences, reported with more or less detail by all the most ancient historians. In 1510, the great
lake of Tezcuco, without the occurrence of a tempest, or earthquake, or any other visible cause, became violently
agitated, overflowed its banks, and, pouring into the streets of Mexico, swept off many of the buildings by the fury of
the waters. In 1511, one of the turrets of the great temple took fire, equally without any apparent cause, and
continued to burn in defiance of all attempts to extinguish it. In the following years, three comets were seen; and not
long before the coming of the Spaniards a strange light broke forth in the east. It spread broad at its base on the
horizon, and rising in a pyramidal form tapered off as it approached the zenith. It resembled a vast sheet or flood of
fire, emitting sparkles, or, as an old writer expresses it, “seemed thickly powdered with stars.” At the same time, low
voices were heard in the air, and doleful wailings, as if to announce some strange, mysterious calamity! The Aztec
monarch, terrified at the apparitions in the heavens, took council of Nezahualpilli, who was a great proficient in the
subtle science of astrology. But the royal sage cast a deeper cloud over his spirit, by reading in these prodigies the
speedy downfall of the empire.

Such are the strange stories reported by the chroniclers, in which it is not impossible to detect the glimmerings of
truth. Nearly thirty years had elapsed since the discovery of the islands by Columbus, and more than twenty since his
visit to the American continent. Rumours, more or less distinct, of this wonderful appearance of the white men, bearing
in their hands the thunder and the lightning, so like in many respects to the traditions of Quetzalcoatl, would
naturally spread far and wide among the Indian nations. Such rumours, doubtless, long before the landing of the
Spaniards in Mexico, found their way up the grand plateau, filling the minds of men with anticipations of the near
coming of the period when the great deity was to return and receive his own again.

When tidings were brought to the capital of the landing of Grijalva on the coast, in the preceding year, the heart
of Montezuma was filled with dismay. He felt as if the destinies which had so long brooded over the royal line of
Mexico were to be accomplished, and the sceptre was to pass away from his house for ever. Though somewhat relieved by
the departure of the Spaniards, he caused sentinels to be stationed on the heights; and when the Europeans returned
under Cortes, he doubtless received the earliest notice of the unwelcome event. It was by his orders, however, that the
provincial governor had prepared so hospitable a reception for them. The hieroglyphical report of these strange
visitors, now forwarded to the capital, revived all his apprehensions. He called without delay a meeting of his
principal counsellors, including the kings of Tezcuco and Tlacopan, and laid the matter before them.

There seems to have been much division of opinion in that body. Some were for resisting the strangers at once,
whether by fraud, or by open force. Others contended, that, if they were supernatural beings, fraud and force would be
alike useless. If they were, as they pretended, ambassadors from a foreign prince, such a policy would be cowardly and
unjust. That they were not of the family of Quetzalcoatl was argued from the fact, that they had shown themselves
hostile to his religion; for tidings of the proceedings of the Spaniards in Tabasco, it seems, had already reached the
capital. Among those in favour of giving them a friendly and honourable reception was the Tezcucan king, Cacama.

But Montezuma, taking counsel of his own ill-defined apprehensions, preferred a half-way course — as usual, the most
impolitic. He resolved to send an embassy, with such a magnificent present to the strangers, as should impress them
with high ideas of his grandeur and resources; while at the same time, he would forbid their approach to the capital.
This was to reveal, at once, both his wealth and his weakness.

While the Aztec court was thus agitated by the arrival of the Spaniards, they were passing their time in the tierra
caliente, not a little annoyed by the excessive heats and suffocating atmosphere of the sandy waste on which they were
encamped. They experienced every alleviation that could be derived from the attentions of the friendly natives. These,
by the governor’s command, had constructed more than a thousand huts or booths of branches and matting which they
occupied in the neighbourhood of the camp. Here they prepared various articles of food for the tables of Cortes and his
officers, without any recompense; while the common soldiers easily obtained a supply for themselves, in exchange for
such trifles as they brought with them for barter. Thus the camp was liberally provided with meat and fish dressed in
many savoury ways, with cakes of corn, bananas, pine-apples, and divers luscious vegetables of the tropics, hitherto
unknown to the Spaniards. The soldiers contrived, moreover, to obtain many little bits of gold, of no great value,
indeed, from the natives; a traffic very displeasing to the partisans of Velasquez, who considered it an invasion of
his rights. Cortes, however, did not think it prudent in this matter to baulk the inclinations of his followers.

At the expiration of seven, or eight days at most, the Mexican embassy presented itself before the camp. It may seem
an incredibly short space of time, considering the distance of the capital was near seventy leagues. But it may be
remembered that tidings were carried there by means of posts, as already noticed, in the brief space of four-and-twenty
hours; and four or five days would suffice for the descent of the envoys to the coast, accustomed as the Mexicans were
to long and rapid travelling. At all events, no writer states the period occupied by the Indian emissaries on this
occasion as longer than that mentioned.

The embassy, consisting of two Aztec nobles, was accompanied by the governor, Teuhtlile, and by a hundred slaves,
bearing the princely gifts of Montezuma. One of the envoys had been selected on account of the great resemblance which,
as appeared from the painting representing the camp, he bore to the Spanish commander. And it is a proof of the
fidelity of the painting, that the soldiers recognised the resemblance, and always distinguished the chief by the name
of the “Mexican Cortes.”

On entering the general’s pavilion, the ambassadors saluted him and his officers, with the usual signs of reverence
to persons of great consideration, touching the ground with their hands and then carrying them to their heads, while
the air was filled with clouds of incense, which rose up from the censers borne by their attendants. Some delicately
wrought mats of the country (petates) were then unrolled, and on them the slaves displayed the various articles they
had brought. They were of the most miscellaneous kind; shields, helmets, cuirasses, embossed with plates and ornaments
of pure gold; collars and bracelets of the same metal, sandals, fans, panaches and crests of variegated feathers,
intermingled with gold and silver thread, and sprinkled with pearls and precious stones; imitations of birds and
animals in wrought and cast gold and silver, of exquisite workmanship; curtains, coverlets, and robes of cotton, fine
as silk, of rich and various dyes, interwoven with feather-work that rivalled the delicacy of painting. There were more
than thirty loads of cotton cloth in addition. Among the articles was the Spanish helmet sent to the capital, and now
returned filled to the brim with grains of gold. But the things which excited the most admiration were two circular
plates of gold and silver, “as large as carriage-wheels.” One, representing the sun, was richly carved with plants and
animals — no doubt, denoting the Aztec century. It was thirty palms in circumference, and was valued at twenty thousand
pesos de oro. The silver wheel, of the same size, weighed fifty marks.2

2 Robertson cites Bernal Diaz as reckoning the value of the
silver plate at 20,000 pesos or about L 5000. (History of America, vol. ii. note 75.) But Bernal Diaz speaks only of
the value of the gold plate, which he estimates at 20,000 pesos de oro, a different affair from the pesos, dollars, or
ounces of silver, with which the historian confounds them. As the mention of the peso de oro will often recur in these
pages, it will be well to make the reader acquainted with its probable value. Nothing more difficult than to ascertain
the actual value of the currency of a distant age; so many circumstances occur to embarrass the calculation, besides
the general depreciation of the precious metals, such as the adulteration of specific coins and the like. Senior
Clemencin, the secretary of the Royal Academy of History, in the sixth volume of its Memorias, has computed with great
accuracy the value of the different denominations of the Spanish currency at the close of the fifteenth century, the
period just preceding that of the conquest of Mexico. He makes no mention of the peso de oro in his tables. But he
ascertains the precise value of the gold ducat, which will answer our purpose as well. (Memorias de la Real Academia de
Historia [Madrid, 1821], tom. vi. Ilust. 20.) Oviedo, a contemporary of the Conquerors, informs us that the peso de oro
and the castellano were of the same value, and that was precisely one third greater than the value of the ducat. (Hist.
del Ind., lib. 6, cap. 8, ap. Ramusio, Navigationi et Viaggi [Venetia, 1565], tom. iii.) Now the ducat, as appears from
Clemencin, reduced to our own currency, would be equal to eight dollars and seventy-five cents. The peso de oro,
therefore, was equal to eleven dollars and sixty-seven cents, or two pounds, twelve shillings, and sixpence sterling.
Keeping this in mind, it will be easy for the reader to determine the actual value in pesos de oro, of any sum that may
be hereafter mentioned.

When Cortes and his officers had completed their survey, the ambassadors courteously delivered the message of
Montezuma. “It gave their master great pleasure,” they said, “to hold this communication with so powerful a monarch as
the King of Spain, for whom he felt the most profound respect. He regretted much that he could not enjoy a personal
interview with the Spaniards, but the distance of his capital was too great; since the journey was beset with
difficulties, and with too many dangers from formidable enemies, to make it possible. All that could be done,
therefore, was for the strangers to return to their own land, with the proofs thus afforded them of his friendly
disposition.”

Cortes, though much chagrined at this decided refusal of Montezuma to admit his visit, concealed his mortification
as he best might, and politely expressed his sense of the emperor’s munificence. “It made him only the more desirous,”
he said, “to have a personal interview with him. He should feel it, indeed, impossible to present himself again before
his own sovereign, without having accomplished this great object of his voyage; and one, who had sailed over two
thousand leagues of ocean, held lightly the perils and fatigues of so short a journey by land.” He once more requested
them to become the bearers of his message to their master, together with a slight additional token of his respect.

This consisted of a few fine Holland shirts, a Florentine goblet, gilt and somewhat curiously enamelled, with some
toys of little value — a sorry return for the solid magnificence of the royal present. The ambassadors may have thought
as much. At least, they showed no alacrity in charging themselves either with the present. or the message; and, on
quitting the Castilian quarters, repeated their assurance that the general’s application would be unavailing.

The splendid treasure, which now lay dazzling the eyes of the Spaniards, raised in their bosoms very different
emotions, according to the difference of their characters. Some it stimulated with the ardent desire to strike at once
into the interior, and possess themselves of a country which teemed with such boundless stores of wealth. Others looked
on it as the evidence of a power altogether too formidable to be encountered with their present insignificant force.
They thought, therefore, it would be most prudent to return and report their proceedings to the governor of Cuba, where
preparations could be made commensurate with so vast an undertaking. There can be little doubt as to the impression
made on the bold spirit of Cortes, on which difficulties ever operated as incentives rather than discouragements to
enterprise. But he prudently said nothing — at least in public — preferring that so important a movement should flow
from the determination of his whole army, rather than from his own individual impulse.

Meanwhile the soldiers suffered greatly from the inconveniences of their position amidst burning sands and the
pestilent effluvia of the neighbouring marshes, while the venomous insects of these hot regions left them no repose,
day or night. Thirty of their number had already sickened and died; a loss that could in be afforded by the little
band. To add to their troubles, the coldness of the Mexican chiefs had extended to their followers; and the supplies
for the camp were not only much diminished, but the prices set on them were exorbitant. The position was equally
unfavourable for the shipping, which lay in an open roadstead, exposed to the fury of the first norte which should
sweep the Mexican Gulf.

The general was induced by these circumstances to despatch two vessels, under Francisco de Montejo, with Alaminos
for his pilot, to explore the coast in a northerly direction, and see if a safer port and more commodious quarters for
the army could not be found there.

After the lapse of ten days the Mexican envoys returned. They entered the Spanish quarters with the same formality
as on the former visit, bearing with them an additional present of rich stuffs and metallic ornaments, which, though
inferior in value to those before brought, were estimated at three thousand ounces of gold. Besides these, there were
four precious stones of a considerable size, resembling emeralds, called by the natives chalchuites, each of which, as
they assured the Spaniards, was worth more than a load of gold, and was designed as a mark of particular respect for
the Spanish monarch. Unfortunately they were not worth as many loads of earth in Europe.

Montezuma’s answer was in substance the same as before. It contained a positive prohibition for the strangers to
advance nearer to the capital; and expressed the confidence, that, now they had obtained what they had most desired,
they would return to their own country without unnecessary delay. Cortes received this unpalatable response
courteously, though somewhat coldly, and, turning to his officers, exclaimed, “This is a rich and powerful prince
indeed; yet it shall go hard, but we will one day pay him a visit in his capital!”

While they were conversing, the bell struck for vespers. At the sound, the soldiers, throwing themselves on their
knees, offered up their orisons before the large wooden cross planted in the sands. As the Aztec chiefs gazed with
curious surprise, Cortes thought it a favourable occasion to impress them with what he conceived to be a principal
object of his visit to the country. Father Olmedo accordingly expounded, as briefly and clearly as he could, the great
doctrines of Christianity, touching on the atonement, the passion, and the resurrection, and concluding with assuring
his astonished audience, that it was their intention to extirpate the idolatrous practices of the nation, and to
substitute the pure worship of the true God. He then put into their hands a little image of the Virgin with the infant
Redeemer, requesting them to place it in their temples instead of their sanguinary deities. How far the Aztec lords
comprehended the mysteries of the Faith, as conveyed through the double version of Aguilar and Marina, or how well they
perceived the subtle distinctions between their own images and those of the Roman Church, we are not informed. There is
a reason to fear, however, that the seed fell on barren ground; for, when the homily of the good father ended, they
withdrew with an air of dubious reserve very different from their friendly manners at the first interview. The same
night every hut was deserted by the natives, and the Spaniards saw themselves suddenly cut off from supplies in the
midst of a desolate wilderness. The movement had so suspicious an appearance, that Cortes apprehended an attack would
be made on his quarters, and took precautions accordingly. But none was meditated.

The army was at length cheered by the return of Montejo from his exploring expedition, after an absence of twelve
days. He had run down the Gulf as far as Panuco, where he experienced such heavy gales, in attempting to double that
headland, that he was driven back, and had nearly foundered. In the whole course of the voyage he had found only one
place tolerably sheltered from the north winds. Fortunately, the adjacent country, well watered by fresh running
streams, afforded a favourable position for the camp; and thither, after some deliberation, it was determined to
repair.

Chapter VII 1519

TROUBLES IN THE CAMP— PLAN FOR A COLONY— MANAGEMENT OF CORTES— MARCH TO CEMPOALLA— PROCEEDINGS WITH
THE NATIVES— FOUNDATION OF VILLA RICA DE VERA CRUZ

THERE is no situation which tries so severely the patience and discipline of the soldier, as a life of idleness in
camp, where his thoughts, instead of being bent on enterprise and action, are fastened on himself and the inevitable
privations and dangers of his condition. This was particularly the case in the present instance, where, in addition to
the evils of a scanty subsistence, the troops suffered from excessive heat, swarms of venomous insects, and the other
annoyances of a sultry climate. They were, moreover, far from possessing the character of regular forces, trained to
subordination under a commander whom they had long been taught to reverence and obey. They were soldiers of fortune,
embarked with him in an adventure in which all seemed to have an equal stake, and they regarded their captain — the
captain of a day — as little more than an equal.

There was a growing discontent among the men at their longer residence in this strange land. They were still more
dissatisfied on learning the general’s intention to remove to the neighbourhood of the port discovered by Montejo. “It
was time to return,” they said, “and report what had been done to the governor of Cuba, and not linger on these barren
shores until they had brought the whole Mexican empire on their heads!” Cortes evaded their importunities as well as he
could, assuring them there was no cause for despondency. “Everything so far had gone on prosperously, and, when they
had taken up a more favourable position, there was no reason to doubt they might still continue the same profitable
intercourse with the natives.”

While this was passing, five Indians made their appearance in the camp one morning, and were brought to the
general’s tent. Their dress and whole appearance were different from those of the Mexicans. They wore rings of gold and
gems of a bright blue stone in their ears and nostrils, while a gold leaf delicately wrought was attached to the under
lip. Marina was unable to comprehend their language; but, on her addressing them in Aztec, two of them, it was found,
could converse in that tongue. They said they were natives of Cempoalla, the chief town of the Totonacs, a powerful
nation who had come upon the great plateau many centuries back, and descending its eastern slope, settled along the
sierras and broad plains which skirt the Mexican Gulf towards the north. Their country was one of the recent conquests
of the Aztecs, and they experienced such vexatious oppressions from their conquerors as made them very impatient of the
yoke. They informed Cortes of these and other particulars. The fame of the Spaniards had reached their master, who sent
these messengers to request the presence of the wonderful strangers in his capital.

This communication was eagerly listened to by the general, who, it will be remembered, was possessed of none of
those facts, laid before the reader, respecting the internal condition of the kingdom, which he had no reason to
suppose other than strong and united. An important truth now flashed on his mind, as his quick eye descried in this
spirit of discontent a potent lever by the aid of which he might hope to overturn this barbaric empire. He received the
mission of the Totonacs most graciously, and, after informing himself, as far as possible, of their dispositions and
resources, dismissed them with presents, promising soon to pay a visit to their lord.

Meanwhile, his personal friends, among whom may be particularly mentioned Alonso Hernandez de Puertocarrero,
Christoval de Olid, Alonso de Avila, Pedro de Alvarado and his brothers, were very busy in persuading the troops to
take such measures as should enable Cortes to go foward in those ambitious plans for which he had no warrant from the
powers of Velasquez. “To return now,” they said, “was to abandon the enterprise on the threshold, which, under such a
leader, must conduct to glory and incalculable riches. To return to Cuba would be to surrender to the greedy governor
the little gains they had already got. The only way was to persuade the general to establish a permanent colony in the
country, the government of which would take the conduct of matters into its own hands, and provide for the interests of
its members. It was true, Cortes had no such authority from Velasquez. But the interests of the Sovereigns, which were
paramount to every other, imperatively demanded it.”

These conferences could not be conducted so secretly, though held by night, as not to reach the ears of the friends
of Velasquez. They remonstrated against the proceedings, as insidious and disloyal. They accused the general of
instigating them; and, calling on him to take measures without delay for the return of the troops to Cuba, announced
their own intention to depart, with such followers as still remained true to the governor.

Cortes, instead of taking umbrage at this high-handed proceeding, or even answering in the same haughty tone, mildly
replied, “that nothing was further from his desire than to exceed his instructions. He, indeed, preferred to remain in
the country and continue his profitable intercourse with the natives. But, since the army thought otherwise, he should
defer to their opinion, and give orders to return, as they desired.” On the following morning, proclamation was made
for the troops to hold themselves in readiness to embark at once on board the fleet, which was to sail for Cuba.

Great was the sensation caused by their general’s order. Even many of those before clamorous for it, with the usual
caprice of men whose wishes are too easily gratified, now regretted it. The partisans of Cortes were loud in their
remonstrances. “They were betrayed by the general,” they cried, and thronging round his tent, called on him to
countermand his orders. “We came here,” said they, “expecting to form a settlement, if the state of the country
authorised it. Now it seems you have no warrant from the governor to make one. But there are interests, higher than
those of Velasquez, which demand it. These territories are not his property, but were discovered for the Sovereigns;
and it is necessary to plant a colony to watch over their interests, instead of wasting time in idle barter, or, still
worse, of returning, in the present state of affairs, to Cuba. If you refuse,” they concluded, “we shall protest
against your conduct as disloyal to their Highnesses.”

Cortes received this remonstrance with the embarrassed air of one by whom it was altogether unexpected. He modestly
requested time for deliberation, and promised to give his answer on the following day. At the time appointed, he called
the troops together, and made them a brief address. “There was no one,” he said, “if he knew his own heart, more deeply
devoted than himself to the welfare of his sovereigns, and the glory of the Spanish name. He had not only expended his
all, but incurred heavy debts, to meet the charges of this expedition, and had hoped to reimburse himself by continuing
his traffic with the Mexicans. But, if the soldiers thought a different course advisable, he was ready to postpone his
own advantage to the good of the state.” He concluded by declaring his willingness to take measures for settling a
colony in the name of the Spanish Sovereigns, and to nominate a magistracy to preside over it.

For the alcaldes he selected Puertocarrero and Montejo, the former cavalier his fast friend, and the latter the
friend of Velasquez, and chosen for that very reason; a stroke of policy which perfectly succeeded. The regidores,
alguacil, treasurer, and other functionaries, were then appointed, all of them his personal friends and adherents. They
were regularly sworn into office, and the new city received the title of Villa Rica de Vera Cruz, “The Rich Town of the
True Cross”; a name which was considered as happily intimating that union of spiritual and temporal interests to which
the arms of the Spanish adventurers in the New World were to be devoted. Thus, by a single stroke of the pen, as it
were, the camp was transformed into a civil community, and the whole framework and even title of the city were arranged
before the site of it had been settled.

The new municipality were not slow in coming together; when Cortes presented himself cap in hand, before that august
body, and, laying the powers of Velasquez on the table, respectfully tendered the resignation of his office of Captain
General, “which, indeed,” he said, “had necessarily expired, since the authority of the governor was now superseded by
that of the magistracy of Villa Rica de Vera Cruz.” He then, with a profound obeisance, left the apartment.

The council, after a decent time spent in deliberation, again requested his presence. “There was no one,” they said,
“who, on mature reflection, appeared to them so well qualified to take charge of the interests of the community, both
in peace and in war, as himself; and they unanimously named him, in behalf of their Catholic Highnesses, Captain
General and Chief justice of the colony.” He was further empowered to draw, on his own account, one fifth of the gold
and silver which might hereafter be obtained by commerce or conquest from the natives. Thus clothed with supreme civil
and military jurisdiction, Cortes was not backward in exerting his authority. He found speedy occasion for it.

The transactions above described had succeeded each other so rapidly, that the governor’s party seemed to be taken
by surprise, and had formed no plan of opposition. When the last measure was carried, however, they broke forth into
the most indignant and opprobrious invectives, denouncing the whole as a systematic conspiracy against Velasquez. These
accusations led to recrimination from the soldiers of the other side, until from words they nearly proceeded to blows.
Some of the principal cavaliers, among them Velasquez de Leon, a kinsman of the governor, Escobar his page, and Diego
de Ordaz, were so active in instigating these turbulent movements that Cortes took the bold measure of putting them all
in irons, and sending them on board the vessels. He then dispersed the common file by detaching many of them, with a
strong party under Alvarado, to forage the neighbouring country, and bring home provisions for the destitute camp.

During their absence, every argument that cupidity or ambition could suggest was used to win the refractory to his
views. Promises, and even gold, it is said, were liberally lavished; till, by degrees, their understandings were opened
to a clearer view of the merits of the case. And when the foraging party re-appeared with abundance of poultry and
vegetables, and the cravings of the stomach — that great laboratory of disaffection, whether in camp or capital — were
appeased, good humour returned with good cheer, and the rival factions embraced one another as companions in arms,
pledged to a common cause. Even the high-mettled hidalgos on board the vessels did not long withstand the general tide
of reconciliation, but one by one gave in their adhesion to the new government. What is more remarkable is, that this
forced conversion was not a hollow one, but from this time forward several of these very cavaliers become the most
steady and devoted partisans of Cortes.

Such was the address of this extraordinary man, and such the ascendency which in a few months he had acquired over
these wild and turbulent spirits! By this ingenious transformation of a military into a civil community, he had secured
a new and effectual basis for future operations. He might now go forward without fear of cheek or control from a
superior — at least from any other superior than the crown, under which alone he held his commission. In accomplishing
this, instead of incurring the charge of usurpation, or of transcending his legitimate powers, he had transferred the
responsibility, in a great measure, to those who had imposed on him the necessity of action. By this step, moreover, he
had linked the fortunes of his followers indissolubly with his own. They had taken their chance with him, and, whether
for weal or for woe, must abide the consequences. He was no longer limited to the narrow concerns of a sordid traffic,
but sure of their co-operation, might now boldly meditate, and gradually disclose, those lofty schemes which he had
formed in his own bosom for the conquest of an empire.

Harmony being thus restored, Cortes sent his heavy guns on board the fleet, and ordered it to coast along the shore
to the north as far as Chiahuitztla, the town near which the destined port of the new city was situated; proposing,
himself, at the head of his troops, to visit Cempoalla, on the march. The road lay for some miles across the dreary
plains in the neighbourhood of the modern Vera Cruz. In this sandy waste no signs of vegetation met their eyes, which,
however, were occasionally refreshed by glimpses of the blue Atlantic, and by the distant view of the magnificent
Orizaba, towering with his spotless diadem of snow far above his colossal brethren of the Andes. As they advanced, the
country gradually assumed a greener and richer aspect. They crossed a river, probably a tributary of the Rio de la
Antigua, with difficulty, on rafts, and on some broken canoes that were lying on the banks. They now came in view of
very different scenery — wide-rolling plains covered with a rich carpet of verdure, and overshadowed by groves of
cocoas and feathery palms, among whose tall, slender stems were seen deer, and various wild animals with which the
Spaniards were unacquainted. Some of the horsemen gave chase to the deer, and wounded, but did not succeed in killing
them. They saw, also, pheasants and other birds; among them the wild turkey, the pride of the American forest, which
the Spaniards described as a species of peacock.

On their route they passed through some deserted villages in which were Indian temples, where they found censers,
and other sacred utensils, and manuscripts of the agave fibre, containing the picture-writing, in which, probably,
their religious ceremonies were recorded. They now beheld, also, the hideous spectacle, with which they became
afterwards familiar, of the mutilated corpses of victims who had been sacrificed to the accursed deities of the land.
The Spaniards turned with loathing and indignation from a display of butchery, which formed so dismal a contrast to the
fair scenes of nature by which they were surrounded.

They held their course along the banks of the river, towards its source, when they were met by twelve Indians, sent
by the cacique of Cempoalla to show them the way to his residence. At night they bivouacked in an open meadow, where
they were well supplied with provisions by their new friends. They left the stream on the following morning, and,
striking northerly across the country, came upon a wide expanse of luxuriant plains and woodland, glowing in all the
splendour of tropical vegetation. The branches of the stately trees were gaily festooned with clustering vines of the
dark-purple grape, variegated convolvuli, and other flowering parasites of the most brilliant dyes. The undergrowth of
prickly aloe, matted with wild rose and honeysuckle, made in many places an almost impervious thicket. Amid this
wilderness of sweet-smelling buds and blossoms fluttered numerous birds of the parrot tribe, and clouds of butterflies,
whose gaudy colours, nowhere so gorgeous as in the tierra caliente, rivalled those of the vegetable creation; while
birds of exquisite song, the scarlet cardinal and the marvellous mockingbird, that comprehends in his own notes the
whole music of a forest, filled the air with delicious melody. — The hearts of the stern Conquerors were not very
sensible to the beauties of nature. But the magical charms of the scenery drew forth unbounded expressions of delight,
and as they wandered through this “terrestrial paradise,” as they called it, they fondly compared it to the fairest
regions of their own sunny land.

As they approached the Indian city, they saw abundant signs of cultivation in the trim gardens and orchards that
lined both sides of the road. They were now met by parties of the natives of either sex, who increased in numbers with
every step of their progress. The women, as well as men, mingled fearlessly among the soldiers, bearing bunches and
wreaths of flowers, with which they decorated the neck of the general’s charger, and hung a chaplet of roses about his
helmet. Flowers were the delight of this people. They bestowed much care in their cultivation, in which they were well
seconded by a climate of alternate heat and moisture, stimulating the soil to the spontaneous production of every form
of vegetable life. The same refined taste, as we shall see, prevailed among the warlike Aztecs.

Many of the women appeared, from their richer dress and numerous attendants, to be persons of rank. They were clad
in robes of fine cotton, curiously coloured, which reached from the neck — in the inferior orders, from the waist — to
the ankles. The men wore a sort of mantle of the same material, in the Moorish fashion, over their shoulders, and belts
or sashes about the loins. Both sexes had jewels and ornaments of gold round their necks, while their ears and nostrils
were perforated with rings of the same metal.

Just before reaching the town, some horsemen who had rode in advance returned with the amazing intelligence, “that
they had been near enough to look within the gates, and found the houses all plated with burnished silver!” On entering
the place, the silver was found to be nothing more than a brilliant coating of stucco, with which the principal
buildings were covered; a circumstance which produced much merriment among the soldiers at the expense of their
credulous comrades. Such ready credulity is a proof of the exalted state of their imaginations, which were prepared to
see gold and silver in every object around them. The edifices of the better kind were of stone and lime, or bricks
dried in the sun; the poorer were of clay and earth. All were thatched with palm-leaves, which, though a flimsy roof,
apparently, for such structures, were so nicely interwoven as to form a very effectual protection against the
weather.

The city was said to contain from twenty to thirty thousand inhabitants. This is the most moderate computation, and
not improbable. Slowly and silently the little army paced the narrow and now crowded streets of Cempoalla, inspiring
the natives with no greater wonder than they themselves experienced at the display of a policy and refinement so far
superior to anything they had witnessed in the New World. The cacique came out in front of his residence to receive
them. He was a tall and very corpulent man, and advanced leaning on two of his attendants. He received Cortes and his
followers with great courtesy; and, after a brief interchange of civillties, assigned the army its quarters in a
neighbouring temple, into the spacious courtyard of which a number of apartments opened, affording excellent
accommodations for the soldiery.

Here the Spaniards were well supplied with provisions, meat cooked after the fashion of the country, and maize made
into bread-cakes. The general received, also, a present of considerable value from the cacique, consisting of ornaments
of gold and fine cottons. Notwithstanding these friendly demonstrations, Cortes did not relax his habitual vigilance,
nor neglect any of the precautions of a good soldier. On his route, indeed, he had always marched in order of battle,
well prepared against surprise. In his present quarters, he stationed his sentinels with like care, posted his small
artillery so as to command the entrance, and forbade any soldier to leave the camp without orders, under pain of
death.

The following morning, Cortes, accompanied by fifty of his men, paid a visit to the lord of Cempoalla in his own
residence. It was a building of stone and lime, standing on a steep terrace of earth, and was reached by a flight of
stone steps. It may have borne resemblance in its structure to some of the ancient buildings found in Central America.
Cortes, leaving his soldiers in the courtyard, entered the mansion with one of his officers, and his fair interpreter,
Dona Marina. A long conference ensued, from which the Spanish general gathered much light respecting the state of the
country. He first announced to the chief, that he was the subject of a great monarch who dwelt beyond the waters; that
he had come to the Aztec shores, to abolish the inhuman worship which prevailed there, and to introduce the knowledge
of the true God. The cacique replied that their gods, who sent them the sunshine and the rain, were good enough for
them; that he was the tributary of a powerful monarch also, whose capital stood on a lake far off among the mountains;
a stern prince, merciless in his exactions, and, in case of resistance, or any offence, sure to wreak his vengeance by
carrying off their young men and maidens to be sacrificed to his deities. Cortes assured him that he would never
consent to such enormities; he had been sent by his sovereign to redress abuses and to punish the oppressor; and, if
the Totonacs would be true to him, he would enable them to throw off the detested yoke of the Aztecs.

The cacique added, that the Totonac territory contained about thirty towns and villages, which could muster a
hundred thousand warriors — a number much exaggerated. There were other provinces of the empire, he said, where the
Aztec rule was equally odious; and between him and the capital lay the warlike republic of Tlascala, which had always
maintained its independence of Mexico. The fame of the Spaniards had gone before them, and he was well acquainted with
their terrible victory at Tabasco. But still he looked with doubt and alarm to a rupture with “the great Montezuma,” as
he always styled him; whose armies, on the least provocation, would pour down from the mountain regions of the west,
and, rushing over the plains like a whirlwind, sweep off the wretched people to slavery and sacrifice!

Cortes endeavoured to reassure him, by declaring that a single Spaniard was stronger than a host of Aztecs. At the
same time, it was desirable to know what nations would cooperate with him, not so much on his account, as theirs, that
he might distinguish friend from foe, and know whom he was to spare in this war of extermination. Having raised the
confidence of the admiring chief by this comfortable and politic vaunt, he took an affectionate leave, with the
assurance that he would shortly return and concert measures for their future operations, when he had visited his ships
in the adjoining port, and secured a permanent settlement there.

The intelligence gained by Cortes gave great satisfaction to his mind. It confirmd his former views, and showed,
indeed, the interior of the monarchy to be in a state far more distracted than he had supposed. If he had before
scarcely shrunk from attacking the Aztec empire in the true spirit of a knight-errant, with his single arm, as it were,
what had he now to fear, when one half of the nation could be thus marshalled against the other? In the excitement of
the moment, his sanguine spirit kindled with an enthusiasm which overleaped every obstacle. He communicated his own
feelings to the officers about him, and, before a blow was struck, they already felt as if the banners of Spain were
waving in triumph the towers of Montezuma!

Taking leave of the hospitable Indian on the following day, the Spaniards took the road to Chiahuitztla, about four
leagues distant, near which was the port discovered by Montejo, where their ships were now riding at anchor. They were
provided by the cacique with four hundred Indian porters, tamanes, as they were called, to transport the baggage. These
men easily carried fifty pounds’ weight five or six leagues in a day. They were in use all over the Mexican empire, and
the Spaniards found them of great service, henceforth, in relieving the troops from this part of their duty. They
passed through a country of the same rich, voluptuous character as that which they had lately traversed; and arrived
early next morning at the Indian town, perched like a fortress on a bold, rocky eminence that commanded the Gulf. Most
of the inhabitants had fled, but fifteen of the principal men remained, who received them in a friendly manner,
offering the usual compliments of flowers and incense. The people of the place, losing their fears, gradually returned.
While conversing with the chiefs, the Spaniards were joined by the worthy cacique of Cempoalla, borne by his men on a
litter. He eagerly took part in their deliberations. The intelligence gained here by Cortes confirmed the accounts
already gathered of the feelings and resources of the Totonac nation.

In the midst of their conference, they were interrupted by a movement among the people, and soon afterwards five men
entered the great square or market-place, where they were standing. By their lofty port, their peculiar and much richer
dress, they seemed not to be of the same race as these Indians. Their dark glossy hair was tied in a knot on the top of
the head. They had bunches of flowers in their hands, and were followed by several attendants, some bearing wands with
cords, other fans, with which they brushed away the flies and insects from their lordly masters. As these persons
passed through the place, they cast a haughty look on the Spaniards, scarcely deigning to return their salutations.
They were immediately joined, in great confusion, by the Totonac chiefs, who seemed anxious to conciliate them by every
kind of attention.

The general, much astonished, inquired of Marina what it meant. She informed him, they were Aztec nobles, empowered
to receive the tribute for Montezuma. Soon after, the chiefs returned with dismay painted on their faces. They
confirmed Marina’s statement, adding, that the Aztecs greatly resented the entertainment afforded the Spaniards without
the emperor’s permission; and demanded in expiation twenty young men and women for sacrifice to the gods. Cortes showed
the strongest indignation at this insolence. He required the Totonacs not only to refuse the demand, but to arrest the
persons of the collectors, and throw them into prison. The chiefs hesitated, but he insisted on it so peremptorily,
that they at length complied, and the Aztecs were seized, bound hand and foot, and placed under a guard.

In the night, the Spanish general procured the escape of two of them, and had them brought secretly before him. He
expressed his regret at the indignity they had experienced from the Totonacs; told them, he would provide means for
their flight, and tomorrow would endeavour to obtain the release of their companions. He desired them to report this to
their master, with assurances of the great regard the Spaniards entertained for him, notwithstanding his ungenerous
behaviour in leaving them to perish from want on his barren shores. He then sent the Mexican nobles down to the port,
whence they were carried to another part of the coast by water, for fear of the violence of the Totonacs. These were
greatly incensed at the escape of the prisoners, and would have sacrificed the remainder at once, but for the Spanish
commander, who evinced the utmost horror at the proposal, and ordered them to be sent for safe custody on board the
fleet. Soon after, they were permitted to join their companions. — This artful proceeding, so characteristic of the
policy of Cortes, had, as we shall see hereafter, all the effect intended on Montezuma.

By order of Cortes, messengers were despatched to the Totonac towns, to report what had been done, calling on them
to refuse the payment of further tribute to Montezuma. But there was no need of messengers. The affrighted attendants
of the Aztec lords had fled in every direction, bearing the tidings, which spread like wildfire through the country, of
the daring insult offered to the majesty of Mexico. The astonished Indians, cheered with the sweet hope of regaining
their ancient liberty, came in numbers to Chiahuitztla, to see and confer with the formidable strangers. The more
timid, dismayed at the thoughts of encountering the power of Montezuma, recommended an embassy to avert his displeasure
by timely concessions. But the dexterous management of Cortes had committed them too far to allow any reasonable
expectation of indulgence from this quarter. After some hesitation, therefore, it was determined to embrace the
protection of the Spaniards, and to make one bold effort for the recovery of freedom. Oaths of allegiance were taken by
the chiefs to the Spanish sovereigns, and duly recorded by Godoy, the royal notary. Cortes, satisfied with the
important acquisition of so many vassals to the crown, set out soon after for the destined port, having first promised
to revisit Cempoalla, where his business was but partially accomplished.

The spot selected for the new city was only half a league distant, in a wide and fruitful plain, affording a
tolerable haven for the shipping. Cortes was not long in determining the circuit of the walls, and the sites of the
fort, granary, townhouse, temple, and other public buildings. The friendly Indians eagerly assisted, by bringing
materials, stone, lime, wood, and bricks dried in the sun. Every man put his hand to the work. The general laboured
with the meanest of the soldiers, stimulating their exertions by his example, as well as voice. In a few weeks the task
was accomplished, and a town rose up, which, if not quite worthy of the aspiring name it bore, answered most of the
purposes for which it was intended. It served as a good point d’appui for future operations; a place of retreat for the
disabled, as well as for the army in case of reverses; a magazine for stores, and for such articles as might be
received from or sent to the mother country; a port for the shipping; a position of sufficient strength to overawe the
adjacent country.

It was the first colony — the fruitful parent of so many others — in New Spain. It was hailed with satisfaction by
the simple natives, who hoped to repose in safety under its protecting shadow. Alas! they could not read the future, or
they would have found no cause to rejoice in this harbinger of a revolution more tremendous than. any predicted by
their bards and prophets. It was not the good Quetzalcoatl who had returned to claim his own again, bringing peace,
freedom, and civilisation in his train. Their fetters, indeed, would be broken, and their wrongs be amply avenged on
the proud head of the Aztec; but it was to be by that strong arm which should bow down equally the oppressor and the
oppressed. The light of civilisation would be poured on their land; but it would be the light of a consuming fire,
before which their barbaric glory, their institutions, their very existence and name as a nation, would wither and
become extinct! Their doom was sealed when the white man. had set his foot on their soil.

Chapter VIII 1519

ANOTHER AZTEC EMBASSY— DESTRUCTION OF IDOLS— DESPATCHES SENT TO SPAIN— CONSPIRACY IN THE CAMP— THE
FLEET SUNK

WHILE the Spaniards were occupied with their new settlement, they were surprised by the presence of an embassy from
Mexico. The account of the imprisonment of the royal collectors had spread rapidly through the country. When it reached
the capital, all were filled with amazement at the unprecedented daring of the strangers. In Montezuma every other
feeling, even that of fear, was swallowed up in indignation; and he showed his wonted energy in the vigorous
preparations which he instantly made to punish his rebellious vassals, and to avenge the insult offered to the majesty
of the empire. But when the Aztec officers liberated by Cortes reached the capital and reported the courteous treatment
they had received from the Spanish commander, Montezuma’s anger was mitigated, and his superstitious fears, getting the
ascendency again, induced him to resume his former timid and conciliatory policy. He accordingly sent an embassy,
consisting of two youths, his nephews, and four of the ancient nobles of his court, to the Spanish quarters. He
provided them, in his usual munificent spirit, with a princely donation of gold, rich cotton stuffs, and beautiful
mantles of the plumaje, or feather embroidery. The envoys, on coming before Cortes, presented him with the articles, at
the same time offering the acknowledgments of their master for the courtesy he had shown in liberating his captive
nobles. He was surprised and afflicted, however, that the Spaniards should have countenanced his faithless vassals in
their rebellion. He had no doubt they were the strangers whose arrival had been so long announced by the oracles, and
of the same lineage with himself. From deference to them he would spare the Totonacs, while they were present. But the
time for vengeance would come.

Cortes entertained the Indian chieftains with frank hospitality. At the same time he took care to make such a
display of his resources, as, while it amused their minds, should leave a deep impression of his power. He then, after
a few trifling gifts, dismissed them with a conciliatory message to their master, and the assurance that he should soon
pay his respects to him in his capital, where all misunderstanding between them would be readily adjusted.

The Totonac allies could scarcely credit their senses, when they gathered the nature of this interview.
Notwithstanding the presence of the Spaniards, they had looked with apprehension to the consequences of their rash act;
and their feelings of admiration were heightened into awe for the strangers who, at this distance, could exercise so
mysterious an influence over the terrible Montezuma.

Not long after, the Spaniards received an application from the cacique of Cempoalla to aid him in a dispute in which
he was engaged with a neighbouring city. Cortes marched with a part of his forces to his support. On the route, one
Morla, a common soldier, robbed a native of a couple of fowls. Cortes, indignant at this violation of his orders before
his face, and aware of the importance of maintaining a reputation for good faith with his allies, commanded the man to
be hung up at once by the roadside, in face of the whole army. Fortunately for the poor wretch, Pedro de Alvarado, the
future conqueror of Quiche, was present, and ventured to cut down the body while there was yet life in it. He,
probably, thought enough had been done for example, and the loss of a single life, unnecessarily, was more than the
little band could afford. The anecdote is characteristic, as showing the strict discipline maintained by Cortes over
his men and the freedom assumed by his captains, who regarded him on terms nearly of equality — as a fellow-adventurer
with themselves. This feeling of companionship led to a spirit of insubordination among them, which made his own post
as commander the more delicate and difficult.

On reaching the hostile city, but a few leagues from the coast, they were received in an amicable manner; and
Cortes, who was accompanied by his allies, had the satisfaction of reconciling these different branches of the Totonac
family with each other, without bloodshed. He then returned to Cempoalla, where he was welcomed with joy by the people,
who were now impressed with as favourable an opinion of his moderation and justice, as they had before been of his
valour. In token of his gratitude, the Indian cacique delivered to the general eight Indian maidens, richly dressed,
wearing collars and ornaments of gold, with a number of female slaves to wait on them. They were daughters of the
principal chiefs, and the cacique requested that the Spanish captains might take them as their wives. Cortes received
the damsels courteously, but told the cacique they must first be baptised, as the sons of the Church could have no
commerce with idolaters. He then declared that it was a great object of his mission to wean the natives from their
heathenish abominations, and besought the Totonac lord to allow his idols to be cast down, and the symbols of the true
faith to be erected in their place.

To this the other answered as before, that his gods were good enough for him; nor could all the persuasion of the
general, nor the preaching of Father Olmedo, induce him to acquiesce. Mingled with his polytheism, he had conceptions
of a Supreme and Infinite Being, Creator of the Universe, and his darkened understanding could not comprehend how such
a Being could condescend to take the form of humanity, with its infirmities and ills, and wander about on earth, the
voluntary victim of persecution from the hands of those whom his breath had called into existence. He plainly told the
Spaniards that he would resist any violence offered to his gods, who would, indeed, avenge the act themselves, by the
instant destruction of their enemies.

But the zeal of the Christians had mounted too high to be cooled by remonstrance or menace. During their residence
in the land, the had witnessed more than once the barbarous rites of the natives, their cruel sacrifices of human
victims, and their disgusting cannibal repasts. Their souls sickened at these abominations, and they agreed with one
voice to stand by their general, when he told them, that “Heaven would never smile on their enterprise, if they
countenanced such atrocities; and that, for his own part, he was resolved the Indian idols should be demolished that
very hour, if it cost him his life.” To postpone the work of conversion was a sin. In the enthusiasm of the moment, the
dictates of policy and ordinary prudence were alike unheeded.

Scarcely waiting for his commands, the Spaniards moved towards one of the principal teocallis, or temples, which
rose high on a pyramidal foundation, with a steep ascent of stone steps in the middle. The cacique, divining their
purpose, instantly called his men to arms. The Indian warriors gathered from all quarters, with shrill cries and
clashing of weapons; while the priests, in their dark cotton robes, with dishevelled tresses matted with blood, flowing
wildly over their shoulders, rushed frantic among the natives, calling on them to protect their gods from violation!
All was now confusion, tumult, and warlike menace, where so lately had been peace and the sweet brotherhood of
nations.

Cortes took his usual prompt and decided measures. He caused the cacique and some of the principal inhabitants and
priests to be arrested by his soldiers. He then commanded them to quiet the people, for, if an arrow was shot against a
Spaniard, it should cost every one of them his life. Marina, at the same time, represented the madness of resistance,
and reminded the cacique, that, if he now alienated the affections of the Spaniards, he would be left without a
protector against the terrible vengeance of Montezuma. These temporal considerations seem to have had more weight with
the Totonac chieftain than those of a more spiritual nature. He covered his face with his hands, exclaiming, that the
gods would avenge their own wrongs.

The Christians were not slow in availing themselves of his tacit acquiescence. Fifty soldiers, at a signal from
their general, sprang up the great stairway of the temple, entered the building on the summit, the walls of which were
black with human gore, tore the huge wooden idols from their foundations, and dragged them to the edge of the terrace.
Their fantastic forms and features, conveying a symbolic meaning, which was lost on the Spaniards, seemed in their eyes
only the hideous lineaments of Satan. With great alacrity they rolled the colossal monsters down the steps of the
pyramid, amidst the triumphant shouts of their own companions, and the groans and lamentations of the natives. They
then consummated the whole by burning them in the presence of the assembled multitude.

The same effect followed as in Cozumel. The Totonacs, finding their deities incapable of preventing or even
punishing this profanation of their shrines, conceived a mean opinion of their power, compared with that of the
mysterious and formidable strangers. The floor and walls of the teocalli were then cleansed, by command of Cortes, from
their, foul impurities; a fresh coating of stucco was laid on them by the Indian masons; and an altar was raised,
surmounted by a lofty cross, and hung with garlands of roses. A procession was next formed, in which some of the
principal Totonae priests, exchanging their dark mantles for robes of white, carried lighted candles in their hands;
while an image of the Virgin, half smothered under the weight of flowers, was borne aloft, and, as the procession
climbed the steps of the temple, was deposited above the altar. Mass was performed by Father Olmedo, and the impressive
character of the ceremony and the passionate eloquence of the good priest touched the feelings of the motley audience,
until Indians as well as Spaniards, if we may trust the chronicler, were melted into tears and audible sobs.

An old soldier named Juan de Torres, disabled by bodily infirmity, consented to remain and watch over the sanctuary
and instruct the natives in its services. Cortes then, embracing his Totonac allies, now brothers in religion as in
arms, set out once more for the Villa Rica, where he had some arrangements to complete, previous to his departure for
the capital.

He was surprised to find that a Spanish vessel had arrived there in his absence, having on board twelve soldiers and
two horses. It was under the command of a captain named Saucedo, a cavalier of the ocean, who had followed in the track
of Cortes in quest of adventure. Though a small, they afforded a very seasonable, body of recruits for the little army.
By these men, the Spaniards were informed that Velasquez, the governor of Cuba, had lately received a warrant from the
Spanish government to establish a colony in the newly discovered countries.

Cortes now, resolved to put a plan in execution which he had been some time meditating. He knew that all the late
acts of the colony, as well as his own authority, would fall to the ground without the royal sanction. He knew, too,
that the interest of Velasquez, which was great at court, would, as soon as he was acquainted with his secession, be
wholly employed to circumvent and crush him. He resolved to anticipate his movements, and to send a vessel to Spain,
with despatches addressed to the emperor himself, announcing the nature and extent of his discoveries, and to obtain,
if possible, the confirmation of his proceedings. In order to conciliate his master’s good will, he further proposed to
send him such a present as should suggest lofty ideas of the importance of his own services to the crown. To effect
this, the royal fifth he considered inadequate. He conferred with his officers, and persuaded them to relinquish their
share of the treasure. At his instance, they made a similar application to the soldiers; representing that it was the
earnest wish of the general, who set the example by resigning his own fifth, equal to the share of the crown. It was
but little that each man was asked to surrender, but the whole would make a present worthy of the monarch for whom it
was intended. By this sacrifice they might hope to secure his indulgence for the past, and his favour for the future; a
temporary sacrifice, that would be well repaid by the security of the rich possessions which awaited them in Mexico. A
paper was then circulated among the soldiers, which all, who were disposed to relinquish their shares, were requested
to sign. Those who declined should have their claims respected, and receive the amount due to them. No one refused to
sign; thus furnishing another example of the extraordinary power obtained by Cortes over these rapacious spirits, who,
at his call, surrendered up the very treasures which had been the great object of their hazardous enterprise!3

3 A complete inventory of the articles received from Montezuma
is contained in the Carta de Vera Cruz. — The following are a few of the items.

Two collars made of gold and precious stones.

A hundred ounces of gold ore, that their Highnesses might see in what state the gold came from the mines.

Two birds made of green feathers, with feet, beaks, and eyes of gold — and, in the same piece with them, animals of
gold, resembling snails.

A large alligator’s head of gold.

A bird of green feathers, with feet, beak, and eyes of gold.

Two birds made of thread and feather-work, having the quills of their wings and tails, their feet, eyes, and the
ends of their beaks, of gold — standing upon two reeds covered with gold, which are raised on balls of feather-work and
gold embroidery, one white and the other yellow, with seven tassels of feather-work hanging from each of them.

A large wheel of silver weighing forty marks, and several smaller ones of the same metal.

A box of feather-work embroidered on leather, with a large plate of gold, weighing seventy ounces, in the midst.

Two pieces of cloth woven with feathers; another with variegated colours; and another worked with black and white
figures.

A large wheel of gold, with figures of strange animals on it, and worked with tufts of leaves; weighing three
thousand eight hundred ounces.

A fan of variegated feather-work, with thirty-seven rods plated with gold.

Five fans of variegated feathers — four of which have ten, and the other thirteen rods, embossed with gold.

Sixteen shields of precious stones, with feathers of various colours hanging from their rims.

Two pieces of cotton very richly wrought with black and white embroidery.

Six shields, each covered with a plate of gold, with something resembling a golden mitre in the centre.

He accompanied this present with a letter to the, emperor, in which he gave a full account of all that had befallen
him since his departure from Cuba; of his various discoveries, battles, and traffic with the natives; their conversion
to Christianity; his strange perils and sufferings; many particulars respecting the lands he had visited, and such as
he could collect in regard to the great Mexican monarchy and its sovereign. He stated his difficulties with the
governor of Cuba, the proceedings of the army in reference to colonisation, and besought the emperor to confirm their
acts, as well as his own authority, expressing his entire confidence that he should be able, with the aid of his brave
followers, to place the Castilian crown in possession of this great Indian empire.

This was the celebrated First Letter, as it is called, of Cortes, which has hitherto eluded every search that has
been made for it in the libraries of Europe. Its existence is fully established by references to it, both in his own
subsequent letters, and in the writings of contemporaries. Its general purport is given by his chaplain, Gomara. The
importance of the document has doubtless been much overrated; and, should it ever come to light, it will probably be
found to add little of interest to the matter contained in the letter from Vera Cruz, which has formed the basis of the
preceding portion of our narrative. He had no sources of information beyond those open to the authors of the latter
document. He was even less full and frank in his communications, if it be true, that he suppressed all notice of the
discoveries of his two predecessors.

The magistrates of the Villa Rica, in their epistle, went over the same ground with Cortes; concluding with an
emphatic representation of the misconduct of Velasquez, whose venality, extortion, and selfish devotion to his personal
interests, to the exclusion of those of his sovereign’s as well as of his own followers, they placed in a most clear
and unenviable light. They implored the government not to sanction his interference with the new colony, which would be
fatal to its welfare, but to commit the undertaking to Hernando Cortes, as the man most capable, by his experience and
conduct, of bringing it to a glorious termination.

With this letter went also another in the name of the citizen-soldiers of Villa Rica, tendering their dutiful
submission to the sovereigns, and requesting the confirmation of their proceedings, above all that of Cortes as their
general.

The selection of the agents for the mission was a delicate matter, as on the result might depend the future fortunes
of the colony and its commander. Cortes intrusted the affair to two cavaliers on whom he could rely: Francisco de
Montejo, the ancient partisan of Velasquez, and Alonso Hernandez de Puertocarrero. The latter officer was a near
kinsman of the Count of Medellin, and it was hoped his high connections might secure a favourable influence at
court.

Together with the treasure, which seemed to verify the assertion that “the land teemed with gold as abundantly as
that whence Solomon drew the same precious metal for his temple,” several Indian manuscripts were sent. Some were of
cotton, others of the Mexican agave. Their unintelligible characters, says a chronicler, excited little interest in the
conquerors. As evidence of intellectual culture, however, they formed higher objects of interest to a philosophic mind,
than those costly fabrics which attested only the mechanical ingenuity of the nation. Four Indian slaves were added as
specimens of the natives. They had been rescued from the cages in which they were confined for sacrifice. One of the
best vessels of the fleet was selected for the voyage, manned by fifteen seamen, and placed under the direction of the
pilot Alaminos. He was directed to hold his course through the Bahama channel, north of Cuba, or Fernandina, as it was
then called, and on no account to touch at that island, or any other in the Indian ocean. With these instructions, the
good ship took its departure on the 26th of July, freighted with the treasures and the good wishes of the community of
the Villa Rica de Vera Cruz.

After a quick run the emissaries made the island of Cuba, and, in direct disregard of orders, anchored before Marien
on the northern side of the island. This was done to accommodate Montejo, who wished to visit a plantation owned by him
in the neighbourhood. While off the port, a sailor got on shore, and, crossing the island to St. Jago, the capital,
spread everywhere tidings of the expedition, until they reached the ears of Velasquez. It was the first intelligence
which had been received of the armament since its departure; and, as the governor listened to the recital, it would not
be easy to paint the mingled emotions of curiosity, astonishment, and wrath, which agitated his bosom. In the first
sally of passion, he poured a storm of invective on the heads of his secretary and treasurer, the friends of Cortes,
who had recommended him as the leader of the expedition. After somewhat relieving himself in this way, he despatched
two fast-sailing vessels to Marien with orders to seize the rebel ship, and, in case of her departure, to follow and
overtake her.

But before the ships could reach that port, the bird had flown, and was far on her way across the broad Atlantic.
Stung with mortification at his fresh disappointment, Velasquez wrote letters of indignant complaint to the government
at home, and to the fathers of St. Jerome, in Hispaniola, demanding redress. He obtained little satisfaction from the
last. He resolved however, to take it into his own hands, and set about making formidable preparations for another
squadron, which should be more than a match for that under his rebellious officer. He was indefatigable in his
exertions, visiting every part of the island, and straining all his resources to effect his purpose. The preparations
were on a scale that necessarily consumed many months.

Meanwhile the little vessel was speeding her prosperous way across the waters; and, after touching at one of the
Azores, came safely into the harbour of St. Lucar, in the month of October. However long it may appear in the more
perfect nautical science of our day, it was reckoned a fair voyage for that. Of what befell the commissioners on their
arrival, their reception at court, and the sensation caused by their intelligence, I defer the account to a future
chapter.

Shortly after the departure of the commissioners, an affair occurred of a most unpleasant nature. A number of
persons, with the priest Juan Diaz at their head, ill-affected, from some cause or other, towards the administration of
Cortes, or not relishing the hazardous expedition before them, laid a plan to seize one of the vessels, make the best
of their way to Cuba, and report to the governor the fate of the armament. It was conducted with so much secrecy, that
the party had got their provisions, water, and everything necessary for the voyage, on board, without detection; when
the conspiracy was betrayed on the very night they were to sail by one of their own number, who repented the part he
had taken in it. The general caused the persons implicated to be instantly apprehended. An examination was instituted.
The guilt of the parties was placed beyond a doubt. Sentence of death was passed on two of the ringleaders; another,
the pilot, was condemned to lose his feet, and several others to be whipped. The priest, probably the most guilty of
the whole, claiming the usual benefit of clergy, was permitted to escape. One of those condemned to the gallows was
named Escudero, the very alguacil who, the reader may remember, so stealthily apprehended Cortes before the sanctuary
in Cuba. The general, on signing the death warrants, was heard to exclaim, “Would that I had never learned to
write!”

The arrangements being now fully settled at the Villa Rica, Cortes sent forward Alvarado, with a large part of the
army, to Cempoalla, where he soon after joined them with the remainder. The late affair of the conspiracy seems to have
made a deep impression on his mind. It showed him that there were timid spirits in the camp on whom he could not rely,
and who, he feared, might spread the seeds of disaffection among their companions. Even the more resolute, on any
occasion of disgust or disappointment hereafter, might falter in purpose, and, getting possession of the vessels,
abandon the enterprise. This was already too vast, and the odds were too formidable, to authorise expectation of
success with diminution of numbers. Experience showed that this was always to be apprehended, while means of escape
were at hand. The best chance for success was to cut off these means. He came to the daring resolution to destroy the
fleet, without the knowledge of his army.

When arrived at Cempoalla, he communicated his design to a few of his devoted adherents, who entered warmly into his
views. Through them he readily persuaded the pilots, by means of those golden arguments which weigh more than any other
with ordinary minds, to make such a report of the condition of the fleet as suited his purpose. The ships, they said,
were grievously racked by the heavy gales they had encountered, and, what was worse, the worms had eaten into their
sides and bottoms until most of them were not sea-worthy, and some indeed, could scarcely now be kept afloat.

Cortes received the communication with surprise; “for he could well dissemble,” observes Las Casas, with his usual
friendly comment, “when it suited his interests.” “If it be so,” he exclaimed, “we must make the best of it! Heaven’s
will be done!” He then ordered five of the worst-conditioned to be dismantled, their cordage, sails, iron, and whatever
was moveable, to be brought on shore, and the ships to be sunk. A survey was made of the others, and, on a similar
report, four more were condemned in the same manner. Only one small vessel remained!

When the intelligence reached the troops in Cempoalla, it caused the deepest consternation. They saw themselves cut
off by a single blow from friends, family, country! The stoutest hearts quailed before the prospect of being thus
abandoned on a hostile shore, a handful of men arrayed against a formidable empire. When the news arrived of the
destruction of the five vessels first condemned, they had acquiesced in it, as a necessary measure, knowing the
mischievous activity of the insects in these tropical seas. But, when this was followed by the loss of the remaining
four, suspicions of the truth flashed on their minds. They felt they were betrayed. Murmurs, at first deep, swelled
louder and louder, menacing open mutiny. “Their general,” they said, “had led them like cattle to be butchered in the
shambles!” The affair wore a most alarming aspect. In no situation was Cortes ever exposed to greater danger from his
soldiers.

His presence of mind did not desert him at this crisis. He called his men together, and employing the tones of
persuasion rather than authority, assured them that a survey of the ships showed they were not fit for service. It he
had ordered them to be destroyed, they should consider, also, that his was the greatest sacrifice, for they were his
property — all, indeed, he possessed in the world. The troops on the other hand, would derive one great advantage from
it, by the addition of a hundred able-bodied recruits, before required to man the vessels. But, even if the fleet had
been saved, it could have been of little service in their present expedition; since they would not need it if they
succeeded, while they would be too far in the interior to profit by it if they failed. He besought them to turn their
thoughts in another direction. To be thus calculating chances and means of escape was unworthy of brave souls. They had
set their hands to the work; to look back, as they advanced, would be their ruin. They had only to resume their former
confidence in themselves and their general, and success was certain. “As for me,” he concluded, “I have chosen my part.
I will remain here, while there is one to bear me company. If there be any so craven, as to shrink from sharing the
dangers of our glorious enterprise, let them go home, in God’s name. There is still one vessel left. Let them take that
and return to Cuba. They can tell there how they deserted their commander and their comrades, and patiently wait till
we return loaded with the spoils of the Aztecs.”

The politic orator had touched the right chord in the bosoms of the soldiers. As he spoke, their resentment
gradually died away. The faded visions of future riches and glory, rekindled by his eloquence, again floated before
their imaginations. The first shock over, they felt ashamed of their temporary distrust. The enthusiasm for their
leader revived, for they felt that under his banner only they could hope for victory; and they testified the revulsion
of their feelings by making the air ring with their shouts, “To Mexico! to Mexico!”

The destruction of his fleet by Cortes is, perhaps, the most remarkable passage in the life of this remarkable man.
History, indeed, affords examples of a similar expedient in emergencies somewhat similar; but none where the chances of
success were so precarious, and defeat would be so disastrous. Had he failed, it might well seem an act of madness. Yet
it was the fruit of deliberate calculation. He had set fortune, fame, life itself, all upon the cast, and must abide
the issue. There was no alternative in his mind but to succeed or perish. The measure he adopted greatly increased the
chance of success. But to carry it into execution, in the face of an incensed and desperate soldiery, was an act of
resolution that has few parallels in history.

BOOK III:

March to Mexico

Chapter I 1519

PROCEEDINGS AT CEMPOALLA— THE SPANIARDS CLIMB THE TABLELAND— TRANSACTIONS WITH THE NATIVES— EMBASSY
TO TLASCALA

WHILE at Cempoalla, Cortes received a message from Escalante, his commander at Villa Rica, informing him there were
four strange ships hovering off the coast, and that they took no notice of his repeated signals. This intelligence
greatly alarmed the general, who feared they might be a squadron sent by the governor of Cuba to interfere with his
movements. In much haste, he set out at the head of a few horsemen, and, ordering a party of light infantry to follow,
posted back to Villa Rica. The rest of the army he left in charge of Alvarado and of Gonzalo de Sandoval, a young
officer, who had begun to give evidence of the uncommon qualities which have secured to him so distinguished a rank
among the conquerors of Mexico.

Escalante would have persuaded the general, on his reaching the town, to take some rest, and allow him to go in
search of the strangers; but Cortes replied with the homely proverb, “A wounded hare takes no nap,” and, without
stopping to refresh himself or his men, pushed on three or four leagues to the north, where he understood the ships
were at anchor. On the way, he fell in with three Spaniards, just landed from them. To his eager inquiries whence they
came, they replied that they belonged to a squadron fitted out by Francisco de Garay, governor of Jamaica. This person,
the year previous, had visited the Florida coast, and obtained from Spain — where he had some interest at court —
authority over the countries he might discover in that vicinity. The three men, consisting of a notary and two
witnesses, had been sent on shore to warn their countrymen under Cortes to desist from what was considered an
encroachment on the territories of Garay. Probably neither the governor of Jamaica, nor his officers, had any very
precise notion of the geography and limits of these territories.

Cortes saw at once there was nothing to apprehend from this quarter. He would have been glad, however, if he could,
by any means have induced the crews of the ships to join his expedition. He found no difficulty in persuading the
notary and his companions. But when he came in sight of the vessels, the people on board, distrusting the good terms on
which their comrades appeared to be with the Spaniards, refused to send their boat ashore. In this dilemma, Cortes had
recourse to a stratagem.

He ordered three of his own men to exchange dresses with the new comers. He then drew off his little band in sight
of the vessels, affecting to return to the city. In the night, however, he came back to the same place, and lay in
ambush, directing the disguised Spaniards, when the morning broke, and they could be discerned, to make signals to
those on board. The artifice succeeded. A boat put off, filled with armed men, and three or four leaped on shore. But
they soon detected the deceit, and Cortes, springing from his ambush, made them prisoners. Their comrades in the boat,
alarmed, pushed off at once for the vessels, which soon got under weigh, leaving those on shore to their fate. Thus
ended the affair. Cortes returned to Cempoalla, with the addition of half a dozen able-bodied recruits, and, what was
of more importance, relieved in his own mind from the apprehension of interference with his operations.

He now made arrangements for his speedy departure from the Totonac capital. The forces reserved for the expedition
amounted to about four hundred foot and fifteen horse, with seven pieces of artillery. He obtained, also, thirteen
hundred Indian warriors, and a thousand tamanes, or porters, from the cacique of Cempoalla, to drag the guns, and
transport the baggage. He took forty more of their principal men as hostages, as well as to guide him on the way, and
serve him by their counsels among the strange tribes he was to visit. They were of essential service to him throughout
the march.

The remainder of his Spanish force he left in garrison at Villa Rica de Vera Cruz, the command of which he had
intrusted to the alguacil, Juan de Escalante, an officer devoted to his interests. The selection was judicious. It was
important to place there a man who would resist any hostile interference from his European rivals, on the one hand, and
maintain the present friendly relations with the natives, on the other. Cortes recommended the Totonac chiefs to apply
to his officer, in case of any difficulty, assuring them that, so long as they remained faithful to their new sovereign
and religion, they should find a sure protection in the Spaniards.

Before marching, the general spoke a few words of encouragement to his own men. He told them they were now to embark
in earnest, on an enterprise which had been the great object of their desires; and that the blessed Saviour would carry
them victorious through every battle with their enemies. “Indeed,” he added, “this assurance must be our stay, for
every other refuge is now cut off, but that afforded by the providence of God, and your own stout hearts.” He ended by
comparing their achievements to those of the ancient Romans, “in phrases of honeyed eloquence far beyond anything I can
repeat,” says the brave and simple-hearted Bernal Diaz, who heard them. Cortes was, indeed, master of that eloquence
which went to the soldiers’ hearts. For their sympathies were his, and he shared in that romantic spirit of adventure
which belonged to them. “We are ready to obey you,” they cried as with one voice. “Our fortunes, for better or worse,
are cast with yours.” Taking leave, therefore, of their hospitable Indian friends, the little army, buoyant with high
hopes and lofty plans of conquest, set forward on the march to Mexico, the sixteenth of August, 1519.

After some leagues of travel over roads made nearly impassable by the summer rains, the troops began the gradual
ascent — more gradual on the eastern than the western declivities of the Cordilleras — which leads up to the tableland
of Mexico. At the close of the second day, they reached Xalapa, a place still retaining the same Aztec name that it has
communicated to the drug raised in its environs, the medicinal virtues of which are now known throughout the
world.4 Still winding their way upward, the army passed through settlements
containing some hundreds of inhabitants each, and on the fourth day reached a “strong town,” as Cortes terms it,
standing on a rocky eminence, supposed to be that now known by the Mexican name of Naulinco. Here they were hospitably
entertained by the inhabitants, who were friends of the Totonacs. Cortes endeavoured, through Father Olmedo, to impart
to them some knowledge of Christian truths, which were kindly received, and the Spaniards were allowed to erect a cross
in the place, for the future adoration of the natives. Indeed, the route of the army might be tracked by these emblems
of man’s salvation, raised wherever a willing population of Indians invited it.

4 Jalap, Convolvulus jalapa. The x and j are convertible
consonants in the Castilian.

The troops now entered a rugged defile, the Bishop’s Pass, as it is called, capable of easy defence against an army.
Very soon they experienced a most unwelcome change of climate. Cold winds from the mountains, mingled with rain, and,
as they rose still higher, with driving sleet and hail, drenched their garments, and seemed to penetrate to their very
bones. The Spaniards, indeed, partially covered by their armour and thick jackets of quilted cotton, were better able
to resist the weather, though their long residence in the sultry regions of the valley made them still keenly sensible
to the annoyance. But the poor Indians, natives of the tierra caliente, with little protection in the way of covering,
sunk under the rude assault of the elements, and several of them perished on the road.

The aspect of the country was as wild and dreary as the climate. Their route wound along the spur of the huge Cofre
of Perote, which borrows its name from the coffer-like rock on its summit. It is one of the great volcanoes of New
Spain. It exhibits now, indeed, no vestige of a crater on its top, but abundant traces of volcanic action at its base,
where acres of lava, blackened scoriae, and cinders, proclaim the convulsions of nature, while numerous shrubs and
mouldering trunks of enormous trees, among the crevices, attest the antiquity of these events. Working their toilsome
way across this scene of desolation, the path often led them along the border of precipices, down whose sheer depths of
two or three thousand feet the shrinking eye might behold another climate, and see all the glowing vegetation of the
tropics choking up the bottom of the ravines.

After three days of this fatiguing travel, the way-worn army emerged through another defile, the Sierra del Agua.
They soon came upon an open reach of country, with a genial climate, such as belongs to the temperate latitudes of
southern Europe. They had reached the level of more than seven thousand feet above the ocean, where the great sheet of
tableland spreads out for hundreds of miles along the crests of the Cordilleras. The country showed signs of careful
cultivation, but the products were, for the most part, not familiar to the eyes of the Spaniards. Fields and hedges of
the various tribes of the cactus, the towering organum, and plantations of aloes with rich yellow clusters of flowers
on their tall stems, affording drink and clothing to the Aztec, were everywhere seen. The plants of the torrid and
temperate zones had disappeared, one after another, with the ascent into these elevated regions. The glossy and
dark-leaved banana, the chief, as it is the cheapest, aliment of the countries below, had long since faded from the
landscape. The hardy maize, however, still shone with its golden harvests in all the pride of cultivation, the great
staple of the higher equally with the lower terraces of the plateau.

Suddenly the troops came upon what seemed the environs of a populous city, which, as they entered it, appeared to
surpass even that of Cempoalla in the size and solidity of its structures. These were of stone and lime, many of them
spacious and tolerably high. There were thirteen teocallis in the place; and in the suburbs they had seen a receptacle,
in which, according to Bernal Diaz, were stored a hundred thousand skulls of human victims, all piled and ranged in
order! He reports the number as one he had ascertained by counting them himself. Whatever faith we may attach to the
precise accuracy of his figures, the result is almost equally startling. The Spaniards were destined to become familiar
with this appalling spectacle, as they approached nearer to the Aztec capital.

The lord of the town ruled over twenty thousand vassals. He was tributary to Montezuma, and a strong Mexican
garrison was quartered in the place. He had probably been advised of the approach of the Spaniards, and doubted how far
it would be welcome to his sovereign. At all events, he gave them a cold reception, the more unpalatable after the
extraordinary sufferings of the last few days. To the inquiry of Cortes, whether he were subject to Montezuma, he
answered with real or affected surprise, “Who is there that is not a vassal to Montezuma?” The general told him, with
some emphasis, that he was not. He then explained whence and why he came, assuring him that he served a monarch who had
princes for his vassals as powerful as the Aztec monarch himself.

The cacique in turn fell nothing short of the Spaniard in the pompous display of the grandeur and resources of the
Indian emperor. He told his guest that Montezuma could muster thirty great vassals, each master of a hundred thousand
men! His revenues were immense, as every subject, however poor, paid something. They were all expended on his
magnificent state, and in support of his armies. These were continually in the field, while garrisons were maintained
in most of the large cities of the empire. More than twenty thousand victims, the fruit of his wars, were annually
sacrificed on the altars of his gods! His capital, the cacique said, stood in a lake in the centre of a spacious
valley. The lake was commanded by the emperor’s vessels, and the approach to the city was by means of causeways,
several miles long, connected in parts by wooden bridges, which, when raised, cut off all communication with the
country. Some other things he added, in answer to queries of his guest, in which as the reader may imagine, the crafty
or credulous cacique varnished over the truth with a lively colouring of romance. Whether romance or reality, the
Spaniards could not determine. The particulars they gleaned were not of a kind to tranquillise their minds, and might
well have made bolder hearts than theirs pause, ere they advanced. But far from it. “The words which we heard,” says
the stout old cavalier, so often quoted, “however they may have filled us with wonder, made us — such is the temper of
the Spaniard — only the more earnest to prove the adventure, desperate as it might appear.”

In a further conversation Cortes inquired of the chief whether his country abounded in gold, and intimated a desire
to take home some, as specimens to his sovereign. But the Indian lord declined to give him any, saying it might
displease Montezuma. “Should he command it,” he added, “My gold, my person, and all I possess, shall be at your
disposal.” The general did not press the matter further.

The curiosity of the natives was naturally excited by the strange dresses, weapons, horses, and dogs of the
Spaniards. Marina, in satisfying their inquiries, took occasion to magnify the prowess of her adopted countrymen,
expatiating on their exploits and victories, and stating the extraordinary marks of respect they had received from
Montezuma. This intelligence seems to have had its effect; for soon after, the cacique gave the general some curious
trinkets of gold, of no great value, indeed, but as a testimony of his good will. He sent him, also, some female slaves
to prepare bread for the troops, and supplied the means of refreshment and repose, more important to them, in the
present juncture, than all the gold of Mexico.

The Spanish general, as usual, did not neglect the occasion to inculcate the great truths of revelation on his host,
and to display the atrocity of the Indian superstitions. The cacique listened with civil, but cold indifference.
Cortes, finding him unmoved, turned briskly round to his soldiers, exclaiming that now was the time to Plant the Cross!
They eagerly seconded his pious purpose, and the same scenes might have been enacted as at Cempoalla, with, perhaps,
very different results, had not Father Olmedo, with better judgment, interposed. He represented that to introduce the
Cross among the natives, in their present state of ignorance and incredulity, would be to expose the sacred symbol to
desecration, so soon as the backs of the Spaniards were turned. The only way was to wait patiently the season when more
leisure should be afforded to instil into their minds a knowledge of the truth. The sober reasoning of the good father
prevailed over the passions of the martial enthusiasts.

The Spanish commander remained in the city four or five days to recruit his fatigued and famished forces. Their
route now opened on a broad and verdant valley, watered by a noble stream — a circumstance of not too frequent
occurrence on the parched tableland of New Spain. All along the river, on both sides of it, an unbroken line of Indian
dwellings, “so near as almost to touch one another,” extended for three or four leagues; arguing a population much
denser than at present. On a rough and rising ground stood a town, that might contain five or six thousand inhabitants,
commanded by a fortress, which, with its walls and trenches, seemed to the Spaniards quite “on a level with similar
works in Europe.” Here the troops again halted, and met with friendly treatment.

Cortes now determined his future line of march. At the last place he had been counselled by the natives to take the
route of the ancient city of Cholula, the inhabitants of which, subjects of Montezuma, were a mild race, devoted to
mechanical and other peaceful arts, and would be likely to entertain him kindly. Their Cempoalla allies, however,
advised the Spaniards not to trust the Cholulans, “a false and perfidious people,” but to take the road to Tlascala,
that valiant little republic which had so long maintained its independence against the arms of Mexico. The people were
frank as they were fearless, and fair in their dealings. They had always been on terms of amity with the Totonacs,
which afforded a strong guarantee for their amicable disposition on the present occasion.

The arguments of his Indian allies prevailed with the Spanish commander, who resolved to propitiate the good will of
the Tlascalans by an embassy. He selected four of the principal Cempoallans for this, and sent by them a martial gift —
a cap of crimson cloth, together with a sword and a crossbow, weapons which, it was observed, excited general
admiration among the natives. He added a letter, in which he asked permission to pass through their country. He
expressed his admiration of the valour of the Tlascalans, and of their long resistance to the Aztecs, whose proud
empire he designed to humble. It was not to be expected that this epistle, indited in good Castilian, would be very
intelligible to the Tlascalans. But Cortes communicated its import to the ambassadors. It mysterious characters might
impress the natives with an idea of superior intelligence, and the letters serve instead of those hieroglyphical
missives which formed the usual credentials of an Indian ambassador.

The Spaniards remained three days in this hospitable place, after the departure of the envoys, when they resumed
their progress. Although in a friendly country, they marched always as if in a land of enemies, the horse and light
troops in the van, with the heavy-armed and baggage in the rear, all in battle array. They were never without their
armour, waking or sleeping, lying down with their weapons by their sides. This unintermitting and restless vigilance
was, perhaps, more oppressive to the spirits than even bodily fatigue. But they were confident in their superiority in
a fair field, and felt that the most serious danger they had to fear from Indian warfare was surprise. “We are few
against many, brave companions,” Cortes would say to them; “be prepared, then, not as if you were going to battle, but
as if actually in the midst of it!”

The road taken by the Spaniards was the same which at present leads to Tlascala; not that, however, usually followed
in passing from Vera Cruz to the capital, which makes a circuit considerably to the south, towards Puebla, in the
neighbourhood of the ancient Cholula. They more than once forded the stream that rolls through this beautiful plain,
lingering several days on the way, in hopes of receiving an answer from the Indian republic. The unexpected delay of
the messengers could not be explained and occasioned some uneasiness.

As they advanced into a country of rougher and bolder features, their progress was suddenly arrested by a remarkable
fortification. It was a stone wall nine feet in height, and twenty in thickness, with a parapet a foot and a half
broad, raised on the summit for the protection of those who defended it. It had only one opening, in the centre, made
by two semicircular lines of wall, overlapping each other for the space of forty paces, and affording a passageway
between, ten paces wide, so contrived, therefore, as to be perfectly commanded by the inner wall. This fortification,
which extended more than two leagues, rested at either end on the bold natural buttresses formed by the sierra. The
work was built of immense blocks of stones nicely laid together without cement; and the remains still existing, among
which are rocks of the whole breadth of the rampart, fully attest its solidity and size.

This singular structure marked the limits of Tlascala, and was intended, as the natives told the Spaniards, as a
barrier against the Mexican invasions. The army paused, filled with amazement at the contemplation of this Cyclopean
monument, which naturally suggested reflections on the strength and resources of the people who had raised it. It
caused them, too, some painful solicitude as to the probable result of their mission to Tlascala, and their own
consequent reception there. But they were too sanguine to allow such uncomfortable surmises long to dwell in their
minds. Cortes put himself at the head of his cavalry, and calling out, “Forward, soldiers, the Holy Cross is our
banner, and under that we shall conquer,” led his little army through the undefended passage, and in a few moments they
trod the soil of the free republic of Tlascala.

Chapter II 1519

REPUBLIC OF TLASCALA— ITS INSTITUTIONS— ITS EARLY HISTORY— THE DISCUSSIONS IN THE SENATE— DESPERATE
BATTLES

BEFORE advancing further with the Spaniards into the territory of Tlascala, it will be well to notice some traits in
the character and institutions of the nation, in many respects the most remarkable in Anahuac. The Tlascalans belonged
to the same great family with the Aztecs. They came on the grand plateau about the same time with the kindred races, at
the close of the twelfth century, and planted themselves on the western borders of the lake of Tezcuco. Here they
remained many years engaged in the usual pursuits of a bold and partially civilised people. From some cause or other,
perhaps their turbulent temper, they incurred the enmity of surrounding tribes. A coalition was formed against them;
and a bloody battle was fought on the plains of Poyauhtlan, in which the Tlascalans were completely victorious.

Disgusted, however, with residence among nations with whom they found so little favour, the conquering people
resolved to migrate. They separated into three divisions, the largest of which, taking a southern course by the great
volcan of Mexico, wound round the ancient city of Cholula, and finally settled in the district of country overshadowed
by the sierra of Tlascala. The warm and fruitful valleys locked up in the embraces of this rugged brotherhood of
mountains, afforded means of subsistence for an agricultural people, while the bold eminences of the sierra presented
secure positions for their towns.

After the lapse of years, the institutions of the nation underwent an important change. The monarchy was divided
first into two, afterwards into four separate states, bound together by a sort of federal compact, probably not very
nicely defined. Each state, however, had its lord or supreme chief, independent in his own territories, and possessed
of co-ordinate authority with the others in all matters concerning the whole republic. The affairs of government,
especially all those relating to peace and war, were settled in a senate or council, consisting of the four lords with
their inferior nobles.

The lower dignitaries held of the superior, each in his own district, by a kind of feudal tenure, being bound to
supply his table, and enable him to maintain his state in peace, as well as to serve him in war. In return he
experienced the aid and protection of his suzerain. The same mutual obligations existed between him and the followers
among whom his own territories were distributed. Thus a chain of feudal dependencies was established, which, if not
contrived with all the art and legal refinements of analogous institutions in the Old World, displayed their most
prominent characteristics in its personal relations, the obligations of military service on the one hand, and
protection on the other. This form of government, so different from that of the surrounding nations, subsisted till the
arrival of the Spaniards. And it is certainly evidence of considerable civilisation, that so complex a polity should
have so long continued undisturbed by violence or faction in the confederate states, and should have been found
competent to protect the people in their rights, and the country from foreign invasion.

The lowest order of the people, however, do not seem to have enjoyed higher immunities than under the monarchical
governments; and their rank was carefully defined by an appropriate dress, and by their exclusion from the insignia of
the aristocratic orders.

The nation, agricultural in its habits, reserved its highest honours, like most other rude-unhappily also,
civilised-nations, for military prowess. Public games were instituted, and prizes decreed to those who excelled in such
manly and athletic exercises as might train them for the fatigues of war. Triumphs were granted to the victorious
general, who entered the city, leading his spoils and captives in long procession, while his achievements were
commemorated in national songs, and his effigy, whether in wood or stone, was erected in the temples. It was truly in
the martial spirit of republican Rome.

An institution not unlike knighthood was introduced, very similar to one existing also among the Aztecs. The
aspirant to the honours of this barbaric chivalry watched his arms and fasted fifty or sixty days in the temple, then
listened to a grave discourse on the duties of his new profession. Various whimsical ceremonies followed, when his arms
were restored to him; he was led in solemn procession through the public streets, and the inauguration was concluded by
banquets and public rejoicings. The new knight was distinguished henceforth by certain peculiar privileges, as well as
by a badge intimating his rank. It is worthy of remark, that this honour was not reserved exclusively for military
merit; but was the recompense, also, of public services of other kinds, as wisdom in council, or sagacity and success
in trade. For trade was held in as high estimation by the Tlascalans as by the other people of Anahuac.

The temperate climate of the tableland furnished the ready means for distant traffic. The fruitfulness of the soil
was indicated by the name of the country — Tlascala signifying the “land of bread.” Its wide plains, to the slopes of
its rocky hills, waved with yellow harvests of maize, and with the bountiful maguey, a plant which, as we have seen,
supplied the materials for some important fabrics. With these, as well as the products of agricultural industry, the
merchant found his way down the sides of the Cordilleras, wandered over the sunny regions at their base, and brought
back the luxuries which nature had denied to his own.

The various arts of civilisation kept pace with increasing wealth and public prosperity; at least these arts were
cultivated to the same limited extent, apparently, as among the other people of Anahuac. The Tlascalan tongue, says the
national historian, simple as beseemed that of a mountain region, was rough compared with the polished Tezcucan, or the
popular Aztec dialect, and, therefore, not so well fitted for composition. But they made like proficiency with the
kindred nations in the rudiments of science. Their calendar was formed on the same plan. Their religion, their
architecture, many of their laws and social usages were the same, arguing a common origin for all. Their tutelary deity
was the same ferocious war-god as that of the Aztecs, though with a different name; their temples, in like manner, were
drenched with the blood of human victims, and their boards groaned with the same cannibal repasts.

Though not ambitious of foreign conquest, the prosperity of the Tlascalans, in time, excited the jealousy of their
neighbours, and especially of the opulent state of Cholula. Frequent hostilities arose between them, in which the
advantage was almost always on the side of the former. A still more formidable foe appeared in later days in the
Aztecs; who could ill brook the independence of Tlascala, when the surrounding nations had acknowledged, one after
another, their influence or their empire. Under the ambitious Axayacatl, they demanded of the Tlascalans the same
tribute and obedience rendered by other people of the country. If it were refused, the Aztecs would raze their cities
to their foundations, and deliver the land to their enemies.

To this imperious summons, the little republic proudly replied, “Neither they nor their ancestors had ever paid
tribute or homage to a foreign power, and never would pay it. If their country was invaded, they knew how to defend it,
and would pour out their blood as freely in defence of their freedom now, as their fathers did of yore, when they
routed the Aztecs on the plains of Poyauhtlan!”

This resolute answer brought on them the forces of the monarchy. A pitched battle followed, and the sturdy
republicans were victorious. From this period hostilities between the two nations continued with more or less activity,
but with unsparing ferocity. Every captive was mercilessly sacrificed. The children were trained from the cradle to
deadly hatred against the Mexicans; and, even in the brief intervals of war, none of those intermarriages took place
between the people of the respective countries which knit together in social bonds most of the other kindred races of
Anahuac.

In this struggle, the Tlascalans received an important support in the accession of the Othomis, or Otomies — as
usually spelt by Castilian writers — a wild and warlike race originally spread over the tableland north of the Mexican
valley. A portion of them obtained a settlement in the republic, and were speedily incorporated in its armies. Their
courage and fidelity to the nation of their adoption showed them worthy of trust, and the frontier places were
consigned to their keeping. The mountain barriers, by which Tlascala is encompassed, afforded many strong natural
positions for defence against invasion. The country was open towards the east, where a valley, of some six miles in
breadth, invited the approach of an enemy. But here it was, that the jealous Tlascalans erected the formidable rampart
which had excited the admiration of the Spaniards, and which they manned with a garrison of Otomies.

Efforts for their subjugation were renewed on a greater scale, after the accession of Montezuma. His victorious arms
had spread down the declivities of the Andes to the distant provinces of Vera Paz and Nicaragua, and his haughty spirit
was chafed by the opposition of a petty state, whose territorial extent did not exceed ten leagues in breadth by
fifteen in length. He sent an army against them under the command of a favourite son. His troops were beaten and his
son was slain. The enraged and mortified monarch was roused to still greater preparations. He enlisted the forces of
the cities bordering on his enemy, together with those of the empire, and with this formidable army swept over the
devoted valleys of Tlascala. But the bold mountaineers withdrew into the recesses of their hills, and, coolly awaiting
their opportunity, rushed like a torrent on the invaders, and drove them back, with dreadful slaughter, from their
territories.

Still, notwithstanding the advantages gained over the enemy in the field, the Tlascalans were sorely pressed by
their long hostilities with a foe so far superior to themselves in numbers and resources. The Aztec armies lay between
them and the coast, cutting off all communication with that prolific region, and thus limited their supplies to the
products of their own soil and manufacture. For more than half a century they had neither cotton, nor cacao, nor salt.
Indeed, their taste had been so far affected by long abstinence from these articles, that it required the lapse of
several generations after the Conquest to reconcile them to the use of salt at their meals. During the short intervals
of war, it is said, the Aztec nobles, in the true spirit of chivalry, sent supplies of these commodities as presents,
with many courteous expressions of respect, to the Tlascalan chiefs. This intercourse, we are assured by the Indian
chronicler, was unsuspected by the people. Nor did it lead to any further correspondence, he adds, between the parties,
prejudicial to the liberties of the republic, “which maintained its customs and good government inviolate, and the
worship of its gods.”

Such was the condition of Tlascala, at the coming of the Spaniards; holding, it might seem, a precarious existence
under the shadow of the formidable power which seemed suspended like an avalanche over her head, but still strong in
her own resources, stronger in the indomitable temper of her people; with a reputation established throughout the land
for good faith and moderation in peace, for valour in war, while her uncompromising spirit of independence secured the
respect even of her enemies. With such qualities of character, and with an animosity sharpened by long, deadly
hostility with Mexico, her alliance was obviously of the last importance to the Spaniards, in their present enterprise.
It was not easy to secure it.

The Tlascalans had been made acquainted with the advance and victorious career of the Christians, the intelligence
of which had spread far and wide over the plateau. But they do not seem to have anticipated the approach of the
strangers to their own borders. They were now much embarrassed by the embassy demanding a passage through their
territories. The great council was convened, and a considerable difference of opinion prevailed in its members. Some,
adopting the popular superstition, supposed the Spaniards might be the white and bearded men foretold by the oracles.
At all events, they were the enemies of Mexico, and as such might co-operate with them in their struggle with the
empire. Others argued that the strangers could have nothing in common with them. Their march throughout the land might
be tracked by the broken images of the Indian gods, and desecrated temples. How did the Tlascalans even know that they
were foes to Montezuma? They had received his embassies, accepted his presents, and were now in the company of his
vassals on the way to his capital.

These last were the reflections of an aged chief, one of the four who presided over the republic. His name was
Xicontecatl. He was nearly blind, having lived, as is said, far beyond the limits of a century. His son, an impetuous
young man of the same name with himself, commanded a powerful army of Tlascalan and Otomie warriors, near the eastern
frontier. It would be best, the old man said, to fall with this force at once on the Spaniards. If victorious, the
latter would then be in their power. If defeated, the senate could disown the act as that of the general, not of the
republic. The cunning counsel of the chief found favour with his hearers, though assuredly not in the spirit of
chivalry, nor of the good faith for which his countrymen were celebrated. But with an Indian, force and stratagem,
courage and deceit, were equally admissible in war, as they were among the barbarians of ancient Rome. — The Cempoallan
envoys were to be detained under pretence of assisting at a religious sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Cortes and his gallant band, as stated in the preceding chapter, had arrived before the rocky rampart on
the eastern confines of Tlascala. From some cause or other, it was not manned by its Otomie garrison, and the Spaniards
passed in, as we have seen, without resistance. Cortes rode at the head of his body of horse, and, ordering the
infantry to come on at a quick pace, went forward to reconnoitre. After advancing three or four leagues, he descried a
small party of Indians, armed with sword and buckler, in the fashion of the country. They fled at his approach. He made
signs for them to halt, but, seeing that they only fled the faster, he and his companions put spurs to their horses,
and soon came up with them. The Indians, finding escape impossible, faced round, and, instead of showing the accustomed
terror of the natives at the strange and appalling aspect of a mounted trooper, they commenced a furious assault on the
cavaliers. The latter, however, were too strong for them, and would have cut their enemy to pieces without much
difficulty, when a body of several thousand Indians appeared in sight, and coming briskly on to the support of their
countrymen.

Cortes, seeing them, despatched one of his party, in all haste, to accelerate the march of his infantry. The
Indians, after discharging their missiles, fell furiously on the little band of Spaniards. They strove to tear the
lances from their grasp, and to drag the riders from the horses. They brought one cavalier to the ground, who
afterwards died of his wounds, and they killed two of the horses, cutting through their necks with their stout
broadswords — if we may believe the chronicler — at a blow. In the narrative of these campaigns, there is sometimes but
one step — and that a short one — from history lo romance. The loss of the horses, so important and so few in number,
was seriously felt by Cortes, who could have better spared the life of the best rider in the troop.

The struggle was a hard one. But the odds were as overwhelming as any recorded by the Spaniards in their own
romances, where a handful of knights is arrayed against legions of enemies. The lances of the Christians did terrible
execution here also; but they had need of the magic lance of Astolpho, that overturned myriads with a touch, to carry
them safe through so unequal a contest. It was with no little satisfaction, therefore, that they beheld their comrades
rapidly advancing to their support.

No sooner had the main body reached the field of battle, than, hastily forming, they poured such a volley from their
muskets and crossbows as staggered the enemy. Astounded, rather than intimidated, by the terrible report of the
firearms, now heard for the first time in these regions, the Indians made no further effort to continue the fight, but
drew off in good order, leaving the road open to the Spaniards. The latter, too well satisfied to be rid of the
annoyance, to care to follow the retreating foe, again held on their way.

Their route took them through a country sprinkled over with Indian cottages, amidst flourishing fields of maize and
maguey, indicating an industrious and thriving peasantry. They were met here by two Tlascalans envoys, accompanied by
two of the Cempoallans. The former, presenting themselves before the general, disavowed the assault on his troops as an
unauthorised act, and assured him of a friendly reception at their capital. Cortes received the communication in a
courteous manner, affecting to place more confidence in its good faith than he probably felt.

It was now growing late, and the Spaniards quickened their march, anxious to reach a favourable ground for
encampment before nightfall. They found such a spot on the borders of a stream that rolled sluggishly across the plain.
A few deserted cottages stood along the banks, and the fatigued and famished soldiers ransacked them in quest of food.
All they could find was some tame animals resembling dogs. These they killed and dressed without ceremony, and,
garnishing their unsavoury repast with the fruit of the tuna, the Indian fig, which grew wild in the neighbourhood,
they contrived to satisfy the cravings of appetite. A careful watch was maintained by Cortes, and companies of a
hundred men each relieved each other in mounting guard through the night. But no attack was made. Hostilities by night
were contrary to the system of Indian tactics.

By break of day on the following morning, it being the 2nd of September, the troops were under arms. Besides the
Spaniards, the whole number of Indian auxiliaries might now amount to three thousand; for Cortes had gathered recruits
from the friendly places on his route; three hundred from the last. After hearing mass, they resumed their march. They
moved in close array; the general had previously admonished the men not to lag behind, or wander from the ranks a
moment, as stragglers would be sure to be cut off by their stealthy and vigilant enemy. The horsemen rode three
abreast, the better to give one another support; and Cortes instructed them in the heat of fight to keep together, and
never to charge singly. He taught them how to carry their lances, that they might not be wrested from their hands by
the Indians, who constantly attempted it. For the same reason they should avoid giving thrusts, but aim their weapons
steadily at the faces of their foes.

They had not proceeded far, when they were met by the two remaining Cempoallan envoys, who with looks of terror
informed the general, that they had been treacherously seized and confined, in order to be sacrificed at an approaching
festival of the Tlascalans, but in the night had succeeded in making their escape. They gave the unwelcome tidings,
also, that a large force of the natives was already assembled to oppose the progress of the Spaniards.

Soon after, they came in sight of a body of Indians, about a thousand, apparently all armed and brandishing their
weapons, as the Christians approached, in token of defiance. Cortes, when he had come within hearing, ordered the
interpreters to proclaim that he had no hostile intentions; but wished only to be allowed a passage through their
country, which he had entered as a friend. This declaration he commanded the royal notary, Godoy, to record on the
spot, that, if blood were shed, it might not be charged on the Spaniards. This pacific proclamation was met, as usual
on such occasions, by a shower of darts, stones, and arrows, which fell like rain on the Spaniards, rattling on their
stout harness, and in some instances penetrating to the skin. Galled by the smart of their wounds, they called on the
general to lead them on, till he sounded the well-known battle-cry, “St. Jago, and at them!”

The Indians maintained their ground for a while with spirit, when they retreated with precipitation, but not in
disorder. The Spaniards, whose blood was heated by the encounter, followed up their advantage with more zeal than
prudence, suffering the wily enemy to draw them into a narrow glen or defile, intersected by a little stream of water,
where the broken ground was impracticable for artillery, as well as for the movements of cavalry. Pressing forward with
eagerness, to extricate themselves from their perilous position, to their great dismay, on turning an abrupt angle of
the pass, they came in presence of a numerous army choking up the gorge of the valley, and stretching far over the
plains beyond. To the astonished eyes of Cortes, they appeared a hundred thousand men, while no account estimates them
at less than thirty thousand.5

5 As this was only one of several armies kept on foot by the
Tlascalans, the smallest amount is, probably, too large. The whole population of the state, according to Clavigero, who
would not be likely to underrate it, did not exceed half a million at the time of the invasion.

They presented a confused assemblage of helmets, weapons, and many-coloured plumes, glancing bright in the morning
sun, and mingled with banners, above which proudly floated one that bore as a device the heron on a rock. It was the
well-known ensign of the house of Titcala, and, as well as the white and yellow stripes on the bodies, and the like
colours on the feather-mail of the Indians, showed that they were the warriors of Xicotencatl.

As the Spaniards came in sight, the Tlascalans set up a hideous war-cry, or rather whistle, piercing the ear with
its shrillness, and which, with the beat of their melancholy drums, that could be heard for half a league or more,
might well have filled the stoutest heart with dismay. This formidable host came rolling on towards the Christians, as
if to overwhelm them by their very numbers. But the courageous band of warriors, closely serried together and sheltered
under their strong panoplies, received the shock unshaken, while the broken masses of the enemy, chafing and heaving
tumultuously around them, seemed to recede only to return with new and accumulated force.

Cortes, as usual, in the front of danger, in vain endeavoured, at the head of the horse, to open a passage for the
infantry. Still his men, both cavalry and foot, kept their array unbroken, offering no assailable point to their foe. A
body of the Tlascalans, however, acting in concert, assaulted a soldier named Moran, one of the best riders in the
troop. They succeeded in dragging him from his horse, which they despatched with a thousand blows. The Spaniards, on
foot, made a desperate effort to rescue their comrade from the hands of the enemy — and from the horrible doom of the
captive. A fierce struggle now began over the body of the prostrate horse. Ten of the Spaniards were wounded, when they
succeeded in retrieving the unfortunate cavalier from his assailants, but in so disastrous a plight that he died on the
following day. The horse was borne off in triumph by the Indians, and his mangled remains were sent, a strange trophy,
to the different towns of Tlascala. The circumstance troubled the Spanish commander, as it divested the animal of the
supernatural terrors with which the superstition of the natives had usually surrounded it. To prevent such a
consequence, he had caused the two horses, killed on the preceding day, to be secretly buried on the spot.

The enemy now began to give ground gradually, borne down by the riders, and trampled under the hoofs of their
horses. Through the whole of this sharp encounter, the Indian allies were of great service to the Spaniards. They
rushed into the water, and grappled their enemies, with the desperation of men who felt that “their only safety was in
the despair of safety.” “I see nothing but death for us,” exclaimed a Cempoallan chief to Marina; “we shall never get
through the pass alive.” “The God of the Christians is with us,” answered the intrepid woman; “and He will carry us
safely through.”

Amidst the din of battle the voice of Cortes was heard, cheering on his soldiers. “If we fail now,” he cried, “the
cross of Christ can never be planted in the land. Forward, comrades! When was it ever known that a Castilian turned his
back on a foe?” Animated by the words and heroic bearing of their general, the soldiers, with desperate efforts, at
length succeeded in forcing a passage through the dark columns of the enemy, and emerged from the defile on the open
plain beyond.

Here they quickly recovered their confidence with their superiority. The horse soon opened a space for the
manoeuvres of artillery. The close files of their antagonists presented a sure mark; and the thunders of the ordnance
vomiting forth torrents of fire and sulphurous smoke, the wide desolation caused in their ranks, and the strangely
mangled carcasses of the slain, filled the barbarians with consternation and horror. They had no weapons to cope with
these terrible engines, and their clumsy missiles, discharged from uncertain hands, seemed to fall ineffectual on the
charmed heads of the Christians. What added to their embarrassment was, the desire to carry off the dead and wounded
from the field, a general practice among the people of Anahuac, but which necessarily exposed them, while thus
employed, to still greater loss.

Eight of their principal chiefs had now fallen; and Xicotencatl, finding himself wholly unable to make head against
the Spaniards in the open field, ordered a retreat. Far from the confusion of a panic-struck mob, so common among
barbarians, the Tlascalan force moved off the ground with all the order of a well-disciplined army. Cortes, as on the
preceding day, was too well satisfied with his present advantage to desire to follow it up. It was within an hour of
sunset, and he was anxious before nightfall to secure a good position, where he might refresh his wounded troops, and
bivouac for the night.

Gathering up his wounded, he held on his way, without loss of time; and before dusk reached a rocky eminence, called
Tzompachtepetl, or “the hill of Tzompach,” crowned by a sort of tower or temple. His first care was given to the
wounded, both men and horses. Fortunately, an abundance of provisions was found in some neighbouring cottages; and the
soldiers, at least all who were not disabled by their injuries, celebrated the victory of the day with feasting and
rejoicing.

As to the number of killed or wounded on either side, it is matter of loosest conjecture. The Indians must have
suffered severely, but the practice of carrying off the dead from the field made it impossible to know to what extent.
The injury sustained by the Spaniards appears to have been principally in the number of their wounded. The great object
of the natives of Anahuac in their battles was to make prisoners, who might grace their triumphs, and supply victims
for sacrifice. To this brutal superstition the Christians were indebted, in no slight degree, for their personal
preservation. To take the reports of the Conquerors, their own losses in action were always inconsiderable. But whoever
has had occasion to consult the ancient chroniclers of Spain in relation to its wars with the infidel, whether Arab or
American, will place little confidence in numbers.6

6 According to Cortes not a Spaniard fell — though many were
wounded — in this action so fatal to the infidel! Diaz allows one.

The events of the day had suggested many topics for painful reflection to Cortes. He had nowhere met with so
determined a resistance within the borders of Anahuac; nowhere had he encountered native troops so formidable for
their, weapons, their discipline, and their valour. Far from manifesting the superstitious terrors felt by the other
Indians at the strange arms and aspect of the Spaniards, the Tlascalans had boldly grappled with their enemy, and only
yielded to the inevitable superiority of his military science. How important would the alliance of such a nation be in
a struggle with those of their own race — for example, with the Aztecs! But how was he to secure this alliance?
Hitherto, all overtures had been rejected with disdain; and it seemed probable, that every step of his progress in this
populous land was to be fiercely contested. His army, especially the Indians, celebrated the events of the day with
feasting and dancing, songs of merriment, and shouts of triumph. Cortes encouraged it, well knowing how important it
was to keep up the spirits of his soldiers. But the sounds of revelry at length died away; and in the still watches of
the night, many an anxious thought must have crowded on the mind of the general, while his little army lay buried in
slumber in its encampment around the Indian hill.

Chapter III 1519

THE Spaniards were allowed to repose undisturbed the following day, and to recruit their strength after the fatigue
and hard fighting on the preceding. They found sufficient employment, however, in repairing and cleaning their weapons,
replenishing their diminished stock of arrows, and getting everything in order for further hostilities, should the
severe lesson they had inflicted on the enemy prove insufficient to discourage him. On the second day, as Cortes
received no overtures from the Tlascalans, he determined to send an embassy to their camp, proposing a cessation of
hostilities, and expressing his intention to visit their capital as a friend. He selected two of the principal chiefs
taken in the late engagement as the bearers of the message.

Meanwhile, averse to leaving his men longer in a dangerous state of inaction, which the enemy might interpret as the
result of timidity or exhaustion, he put himself at the head of the cavalry and such light troops as were most fit for
service, and made a foray into the neighbouring country. It was a montainous region, formed by a. ramification of the
great sierra of Tlascala, with verdant slopes and valleys teeming with maize and plantations of maguey, while the
eminences were crowned with populous towns and villages. In one of these, he tells us, he found three thousand
dwellings. In some places he met with a resolute resistance, and on these occasions took ample vengeance by laying the
country waste with fire and sword. After a successful inroad he returned laden with forage and provisions, and driving
before him several hundred Indian captives. He treated them kindly, however, when arrived in camp, endeavouring to make
them understand that these acts of violence were not dictated by his own wishes, but by the unfriendly policy of their
countrymen. In this way he hoped to impress the nation with the conviction of his power on the one hand, and of his
amicable intentions, if met by them in the like spirit, on the other.

On reaching his quarters, he found the two envoys returned from the Tlascalan camp. They had fallen in with
Xicotencatl at about two leagues’ distance, where he lay encamped with a powerful force. The cacique gave them audience
at the head of his troops. He told them to return with the answer, “That the Spaniards might pass on as soon as they
chose to Tlascala; and, when they reached it, their flesh would be hewn from their bodies, for sacrifice to the gods!
If they preferred to remain in their own quarters, he would pay them a visit there the next day.” The ambassadors
added, that the chief had an immense force with him, consisting of five battalions of ten thousand men each. They were
the flower of the Tlascalan and Otomie warriors, assembled under the banners of their respective leaders, by command of
the senate, who were resolved to try the fortunes of the state in a pitched battle, and strike one decisive blow for
the extermination of the invaders.

This bold defiance fell heavily on the ears of the Spaniards, not prepared for so pertinacious a spirit in their
enemy. They had had ample proof of his courage and formidable prowess. They were now, in their crippled condition, to
encounter him with a still more terrible array of numbers. The war, too, from the horrible fate with which it menaced
the vanquished, wore a peculiarly gloomy aspect that pressed heavily on their spirits. “We feared death,” says the
lion-hearted Diaz, with his usual simplicity, “for we were men.” There was scarcely one in the army that did not
confess himself that night to the reverend Father Olmedo, who was occupied nearly the whole of it with administering
absolution, and with the other solemn offices of the Church. Armed with the blessed sacraments, the Catholic soldier
lay tranquilly down to rest, prepared for any fate that might betide him under the banner of the Cross.

As a battle was now inevitable, Cortes resolved to march out and meet the enemy in the field. This would have a show
of confidence, that might serve the double purpose of intimidating the Tlascalans, and inspiriting his own men, whose
enthusiasm might lose somewhat of its heat, if compelled to await the assault of their antagonists, inactive in their
own intrenchments. The sun rose bright on the following morning, the 5th of September, 1519, an eventful day in the
history of Spanish Conquest. The general reviewed his army, and gave them, preparatory to marching, a few words of
encouragement and advice. The infantry he instructed to rely on the point rather than the edge of their swords, and to
endeavour to thrust their opponents through the body. The horsemen were to charge at half speed, with their lances
aimed at the eyes of the Indians. The artillery the arquebusiers, and crossbowmen, were to support one another, some
loading while others discharged their pieces, that there should be an unintermitted firing kept up through the action.
Above all, they were to maintain their ranks close and unbroken, as on this depended their preservation.

They had not advanced a quarter of a league, when they came in sight of the Tlascalan army. Its dense array
stretched far and wide over a vast plain or meadow ground, about six miles square. Its appearance justified the report
which had been given of its numbers. Nothing could be more picturesque than the aspect of these Indian battalions, with
the naked bodies of the common soldiers gaudily painted, the fantastic helmets of the chiefs glittering with gold and
precious stones, and the glowing panoplies of feather-work which decorated their persons. Innumerable spears and darts
tipped with points of transparent itztli or fiery copper, sparkled bright in the morning sun, like the phosphoric
gleams playing on the surface of a troubled sea, while the rear of the mighty host was dark with the shadows of
banners, on which were emblazoned the armorial bearings of the great Tlascalan and Otomie chieftains. Among these, the
white heron on the rock, the cognisance of the house of Xicotencatl, was conspicuous, and, still more, the golden eagle
with outspread wings, in the fashion of a Roman signum, richly ornamented with emeralds and silver work, the great
standard of the republic of Tlascala.

The common file wore no covering except a girdle round the loins. Their bodies were painted with the appropriate
colours of the chieftain whose banner they followed. The feather-mail of the higher class of warriors exhibited, also,
a similar selection of colours for the like object, in the same manner as the colour of the tartan indicates the
peculiar clan of the Highlander. The caciques and principal warriors were clothed in a quilted cotton tunic, two inches
thick, which, fitting close to the body, protected also the thighs and the shoulders. Over this the wealthier Indians
wore cuirasses of thin gold plate, or silver. Their legs were defended by leathern boots or sandals, trimmed with gold.
But the most brilliant part of their costume was a rich mantle of the plumaje or feather-work, embroidered with curious
art, and furnishing some resemblance to the gorgeous surcoat worn by the European knight over his armour in the Middle
Ages. This graceful and picturesque dress was surmounted by a fantastic head-piece made of wood or leather,
representing the head of some wild animal, and frequently displaying a formidable array of teeth. With this covering
the warrior’s head was enveloped, producing a most grotesque and hideous effect. From the crown floated a splendid
panache of the richly variegated plumage of the tropics, indicating, by its form and colours, the rank and family of
the wearer. To complete their defensive armour, they carried shields or targets, made sometimes of wood covered with
leather, but more usually of a light frame of reeds quilted with cotton, which were preferred, as tougher and less
liable to fracture than the former. They had other bucklers, in which the cotton was covered with an elastic substance,
enabling them to be shut up in a more compact form, like a fan or umbrella. These shields were decorated with showy
ornaments, according to the taste or wealth of the wearer, and fringed with a beautiful pendant of feather-work.

Their weapons were slings, bows and arrows, javelins, and darts. They were accomplished archers, and would discharge
two or even three arrows at a time. But they most excelled in throwing the javelin. One species of this, with a thong
attached to it, which remained in the slinger’s hand, that he might recall the weapon, was especially dreaded by the
Spaniards. These various weapons were pointed with bone, or the mineral itztli (obsidian), the hard vitreous substance
already noticed, as capable of taking an edge like a razor, though easily blunted. Their spears and arrows were also
frequently headed with copper. Instead of a sword, they bore a two-handed staff, about three feet and a half long, in
which, at regular distances, were inserted, transversely, sharp blades of itztli — a formidable weapon, which, an
eye-witness assures us, he had seen fell a horse at a blow.

Such was the costume of the Tlascalan warrior, and, indeed, of that great family of nations generally, who occupied
the plateau of Anahuac. Some parts of it, as the targets and the cotton mail or escaupil, as it was called in
Castilian, were so excellent, that they were subsequently adopted by the Spaniards, as equally effectual in the way of
protection, and superior, on the score of lightness and convenience, to their own. They were of sufficient strength to
turn an arrow, or the stroke of a javelin, although impotent as a defence against firearms. But what armour is not? Yet
it is probably no exaggeration to say that, in convenience, gracefulness, and strength, the arms of the Indian warrior
were not very inferior to those of the polished nations of antiquity.

As soon as the Castilians came in sight, the Tlascalans set up their yell of defiance, rising high above the wild
barbaric minstrelsy of shell, atabal, and trumpet, with which they proclaimed their triumphant anticipations of victory
over the paltry forces of the invaders. When the latter had come within bowshot, the Indians hurled a tempest of
missiles, that darkened the sun for a moment as with a passing cloud, strewing the earth around with heaps of stones
and arrows. Slowly and steadily the little band of Spaniards held on its way amidst this arrowy shower, until it had
reached what appeared the proper distance for delivering its fire with full effect. Cortes then halted, and, hastily
forming his troops, opened a general well-directed fire along the whole line. Every shot bore its errand of death; and
the ranks of the Indians were mowed down faster than their comrades in the rear could carry off their bodies, according
to custom, from the field. The balls in their passage through the crowded files, bearing splinters of the broken
harness and mangled limbs of the warriors, scattered havoc and desolation in their path. The mob of barbarians stood
petrified with dismay, till, at length, galled to desperation by their intolerable suffering, they poured forth
simultaneously their hideous war-shriek, and rushed impetuously on the Christians.

On they came like an avalanche, or mountain torrent, shaking the solid earth, and sweeping away every obstacle in
its path. The little army of Spaniards opposed a bold front to the overwhelming mass. But no strength could withstand
it. They faltered, gave way, were borne along before it, and their ranks were broken and thrown into disorder. It was
in vain the general called on them to close again and rally. His voice was drowned by the din of fight and the fierce
cries of the assailants. For a moment, it seemed that all was lost. The tide of battle had turned against them, and the
fate of the Christians was sealed.

But every man had that within his bosom which spoke louder than the voice of the general. Despair gave unnatural
energy to his arms. The naked body of the Indian afforded no resistance to the sharp Toledo steel; and with their good
swords, the Spanish infantry at length succeeded in staying the human torrent. The heavy guns from a distance thundered
on the flank of the assailants, which, shaken by the iron tempest, was thrown into disorder. Their very numbers
increased the confusion, as they were precipitated on the masses in front. The horse at the same moment, charging
gallantly under Cortes, followed up the advantage, and at length compelled the tumultuous throng to fall back with
greater precipitation and disorder than that with which they had advanced.

More than once in the course of the action, a similar assault was attempted by the Tlascalans, but each time with
less spirit, and greater loss. They were too deficient in military science to profit by their vast superiority in
numbers. They were distributed into companies, it is true, each serving under its own chieftain and banner. But they
were not arranged by rank and file, and moved in a confused mass, promiscuously heaped together. They knew not how to
concentrate numbers on a given point, or even how to sustain an assault, by employing successive detachments to support
and relieve one another. A very small part only of their array could be brought into contact with an enemy inferior to
them in amount of forces. The remainder of the army, inactive and worse than useless in the rear, served only to press
tumultuously on the advance, and embarrass its movements by mere weight of numbers, while, on the least alarm, they
were seized with a panic and threw the whole body into inextricable confusion. It was, in short, the combat of the
ancient Greeks and Persians over again.

Still, the great numerical superiority of the Indians might have enabled them, at a severe cost of their own lives,
indeed, to wear out, in time, the constancy of the Spaniards, disabled by wounds, and incessant fatigue. But,
fortunately for the latter, dissensions arose among their enemies. A Tlascalan chieftain, commanding one of the great
divisions, had taken umbrage at the haughty demeanour of Xicotencatl, who had charged him with misconduct or cowardice
in the late action. The injured cacique challenged his rival to single combat. This did not take place. But, burning
with resentment, he chose the present occasion to indulge it, by drawing off his forces, amounting to ten thousand men,
from the field. He also persuaded another of the commanders to follow his example.

Thus reduced to about half his original strength, and that greatly crippled by the losses of the day, Xicotencatl
could no longer maintain his ground against the Spaniards. After disputing the field with admirable courage for four
hours, he retreated and resigned it to the enemy. The Spaniards were too much jaded, and too many were disabled by
wounds, to allow them to pursue; and Cortes, satisfied with the decisive victory he had gained, returned in triumph to
his position on the hill of Tzompach.

The number of killed in his own ranks had been very small, notwithstanding the severe loss inflicted on the enemy.
These few he was careful to bury where they could not be discovered, anxious to conceal not only the amount of the
slain, but the fact that the whites were mortal. But very many of the men were wounded, and all the horses. The trouble
of the Spaniards was much enhanced by the want of many articles important to them in their present exigency. They had
neither oil, nor salt, which, as before noticed, was not to be obtained in Tlascala. Their clothing, accommodated to a
softer climate, was ill adapted to the rude air of the mountains; and bows and arrows, as Bernal Diaz sarcastically
remarks, formed an indifferent protection against the inclemency of the weather.

Still, they had much to cheer them in the events of the day; and they might draw from them a reasonable ground for
confidence in their own resources, such as no other experience could have supplied. Not that the results could
authorise anything like contempt for their Indian foe. Singly and with the same weapons, he might have stood his ground
against the Spaniards. But the success of the day established the superiority of science and discipline over mere
physical courage and numbers. It was fighting over again, as we have said, the old battle of the European and the
Asiatic. But the handful of Greeks who routed the hosts of Xerxes and Darius, it must be remembered, had not so obvious
an advantage on the score of weapons, as was enjoyed by the Spaniards in these wars. The use of firearms gave an
ascendency which cannot easily be estimated; one so great, that a contest between nations equally civilised, which
should be similar in all other respects to that between the Spaniards and the Tlascalans, would probably be attended
with a similar issue. To all this must be added the effect produced by the cavalry. The nations of Anahuac had no large
domesticated animals, and were unacquainted with any beast of burden. Their imaginations were bewildered when they
beheld the strange apparition of the horse and his rider moving in unison and obedient to one impulse, as if possessed
of a common nature; and as they saw the terrible animal, with his “neck clothed in thunder,” bearing down their
squadrons and trampling them in the dust, no wonder they should have regarded him with the mysterious terror felt for a
supernatural being. A very little reflection on the manifold grounds of superiority, both moral and physical, possessed
by the Spaniards in this contest, will surely explain the issue, without any disparagement to the courage or capacity
of their opponents.

Cortes, thinking the occasion favourable, followed up the important blow he had struck by a new mission to the
capital, bearing a message of similar import with that recently sent to the camp. But the senate was not yet
sufficiently humbled. The late defeat caused, indeed, general consternation. Maxixcatzin, one of the four great lords
who presided over the republic, reiterated with greater force the arguments before urged by him for embracing the
proffered alliance of the strangers. The armies of the state had been beaten too often to allow any reasonable hope of
successful resistance; and he enlarged on the generosity shown by the politic Conqueror to his prisoners — so unusual
in Anahuac — as an additional motive for an alliance with men who knew how to be friends as well as foes.

But in these views he was overruled by the war-party, whose animosity was sharpened, rather than subdued, by the
late discomfiture. Their hostile feelings were further exasperated by the younger Xicotencatl, who burned for an
opportunity to retrieve his disgrace, and to wipe away the stain which had fallen for the first time on the arms of the
republic.

In their perplexity they called in the assistance of the priests whose authority was frequently invoked in the
deliberations of the American chiefs. The latter inquired, with some simplicity, of these interpreters of fate, whether
the strangers were supernatural beings, or men of flesh and blood like themselves. The priests, after some
consultation, are said to have made the strange answer, that the Spaniards, though not gods, were children of the sun;
that they derived their strength from that luminary, and, when his beams were withdrawn, their powers would also fail.
They recommended a night attack, therefore, as one which afforded the best chance of success. This apparently childish
response may have had in it more of cunning than credulity. It was not improbably suggested by Xicotencatl himself, or
by the caciques in his interest, to reconcile the people to a measure which was contrary to the military usages —
indeed, it may be said, to the public law of Anahuac. Whether the fruit of artifice or superstition, it prevailed; and
the Tlascalan general was empowered, at the head of a detachment of ten thousand warriors, to try the effect of an
assault by night.

The affair was conducted with such secrecy that it did not reach the ears of the Spaniards. But their general was
not one who allowed himself, sleeping or waking, to be surprised on his post. Fortunately the night appointed was
illumined by the full beams of an autumnal moon; and one of the videttes perceived by its light, at a considerable
distance, a large body of Indians moving towards the Christian lines. He was not slow in giving the alarm to the
garrison.

The Spaniards slept, as has been said, with their arms by their side; while their horses, picketed near them, stood
ready saddled, with the bridle hanging at the bow. In five minutes the whole camp was under arms, when they beheld the
dusky columns of the Indians cautiously advancing over the plain, their heads just peering above the tall maize with
which the land was partially covered. Cortes determined not to abide the assault in his intrenchments, but to sally out
and pounce on the enemy when he had reached the bottom of the hill.

Slowly and stealthily the Indians advanced, while the Christian camp, hushed in profound silence, seemed to them
buried in slumber. But no sooner had they reached the slope of the rising ground, than they were astounded by the deep
battle-cry of the Spaniards, followed by the instantaneous apparition of the whole army, as they sallied forth from the
works, and poured down the sides of the hill. Brandishing aloft their weapons, they seemed to the troubled fancies of
the Tlascalans like so many spectres or demons hurrying to and fro in mid air, while the uncertain light magnified
their numbers, and expanded the horse and his rider into gigantic and unearthly dimensions.

Scarcely waiting the shock of their enemy, the panic-struck barbarians let off a feeble volley of arrows, and,
offering no other resistance, fled rapidly and tumultuously across the plain. The horse easily overtook the fugitives,
riding them down and cutting them to pieces without mercy, until Cortes, weary with slaughter, called off his men,
leaving the field loaded with the bloody trophies of victory.

The next day, the Spanish commander, with his usual policy after a decisive blow had been struck, sent a new embassy
to the Tlascalan capital. The envoys received their instructions through the interpreter, Marina. That remarkable woman
had attracted general admiration by the constancy and cheerfulness with which she endured all the privations of the
camp. Far from betraying the natural weakness and timidity of her sex, she had shrunk from no hardship herself, and had
done much to fortify the drooping spirits of the soldiers; while her sympathies, whenever occasion offered, had been
actively exerted in mitigating the calamities of her Indian countrymen.

Through his faithful interpreter, Cortes communicated the terms of his message to the Tlascalan envoys. He made the
same professions of amity as before, promising oblivion of all past injuries; but, if this proffer were rejected, he
would visit their capital as a conqueror, raze every house in it to the ground, and put every inhabitant to the sword!
He then dismissed the ambassadors with the symbolical presents of a letter in one hand, and an arrow in the other.

The envoys obtained respectful audience from the council of Tlascala, whom they found plunged in deep dejection by
their recent reverses. The failure of the night attack had extinguished every spark of hope in their bosoms. Their
armies had been beaten again and again, in the open field and in secret ambush. Stratagem and courage, all their
resources, had alike proved ineffectual against a foe whose hand was never weary, and whose eye was never closed.
Nothing remained but to submit. They selected four principal caciques, whom they intrusted with a mission to the
Christian camp. They were to assure the strangers of a free passage through the country, and a friendly reception in
the capital. The proffered friendship of the Spaniards was cordially embraced, with many awkward excuses for the past.
The envoys were to touch at the Tlascalan camp on their way, and inform Xicotencatl of their proceedings. They were to
require him, at the same time, to abstain from all further hostilities, and to furnish the white men with an ample
supply of provisions.

But the Tlascalan deputies, on arriving at the quarters of that chief, did not find him in the humour to comply with
these instructions. His repeated collisions with the Spaniards, or, it may be, his constitutional courage, left him
inaccessible to the vulgar terrors of his countrymen. He regarded the strangers not as supernatural beings, but as men
like himself. The animosity of a warrior had rankled into a deadly hatred from the mortifications he had endured at
their hands, and his head teemed with plans for recovering his fallen honours, and for taking vengeance on the invaders
of his country. He refused to disband any of the force, still formidable, under his command; or to send supplies to the
enemy’s camp. He further induced the ambassadors to remain in his quarters, and relinquish their visit to the
Spaniards. The latter, in consequence, were kept in ignorance of the movements in their favour which had taken place in
the Tlascalan capital.

The conduct of Xicotencatl is condemned by Castilian writers as that of a ferocious and sanguinary barbarian. It is
natural they should so regard it. But those who have no national prejudice to warp their judgments may come to a
different conclusion. They may find much to admire in that high, unconquerable spirit, like some proud column, standing
alone in its majesty amidst the fragments and ruins around it. They may see evidences of a clearsighted sagacity,
which, piercing the thin veil of insidious friendship proffered by the Spaniards, and penetrating the future, discerned
the coming miseries of his country; the noble patriotism of one who would rescue that country at any cost, and, amidst
the gathering darkness, would infuse his own intrepid spirit into the hearts of his nation, to animate them to a last
struggle for independence.

Chapter IV 1519

DISCONTENTS IN THE ARMY— TLASCALAN SPIES— PEACE WITH THE REPUBLIC— EMBASSY FROM MONTEZUMA

DESIROUS to keep up the terror of the Castilian name, by leaving the enemy no respite, Cortes on the same day that
he despatched the embassy to Tlascala, put himself at the head of a small corps of cavalry and light troops to scour
the neighbouring country. He was at that time so ill from fever, aided by medical treatment, that he could hardly keep
his seat in the saddle. It was a rough country, and the sharp winds from the frosty summits of the mountains pierced
the scanty covering of the troops, and chilled both men and horses. Four or five of the animals gave out, and the
general, alarmed for their safety, sent them back to the camp. The soldiers, discouraged by this ill omen, would have
persuaded him to return. But he made answer, “We fight under the banner of the Cross; God is stronger than nature,” and
continued his march.

It led through the same kind of chequered scenery of rugged hill and cultivated plain as that already described,
well covered with towns and villages, some of them the frontier posts occupied by the Otomies. Practising the Roman
maxim of lenity to the submissive foe, he took full vengeance on those who resisted, and, as resistance too often
occurred, marked his path with fire and desolation. After a short absence, he returned in safety, laden with the
plunder of a successful foray. It would have been more honourable to him had it been conducted with less rigour. The
excesses are imputed by Bernal Diaz to the Indian allies, whom in the heat of victory it was found impossible to
restrain. On whose head soever they fall, they seem to have given little uneasiness to the general, who declares in his
letter to the Emperor Charles the Fifth, “As we fought under the standard of the Cross, for the true Faith, and the
service of your Highness, Heaven crowned our arms with such success, that, while multitudes of the infidel were slain,
little loss was suffered by the Castilians.” The Spanish Conquerors, to judge from, their writings, unconscious of any
worldly motive lurking in the bottom of their hearts, regarded themselves as soldiers of the Church, fighting the great
battle of Christianity; and in the same edifying and comfortable light are regarded by most of the national historians
of a later day.

On his return to the camp, Cortes found a new cause of disquietude in the discontents which had broken out among the
soldiery. Their patience was exhausted by a life of fatigue and peril, to which there seemed to be no end. The battles
they had won against such tremendous odds had not advanced them a jot. The idea of their reaching Mexico, says the old
soldier so often quoted, “was treated as jest by the whole army”; and the indefinite prospect of hostilities with the
ferocious people among whom they were now cast, threw a deep gloom over their spirits.

Among the malcontents were a number of noisy, vapouring persons, such as are found in every camp, who, like empty
bubbles, are sure to rise to the surface and make themselves seen in seasons of agitation. They were, for the most
part, of the old faction of Velasquez, and had estates in Cuba, to which they turned many a wistful glance as they
receded more and more from the coast. They now waited on the general, not in a mutinous spirit of resistance — for they
remembered the lesson in Villa Rica — but with the design of frank expostulation, as with a brother adventurer in a
common cause. The tone of familiarity thus assumed was eminently characteristic of the footing of equality on which the
parties in the expedition stood with one another.

Their sufferings, they told him, were too great to be endured. All the men had received one, most of them two or
three wounds. More than fifty had perished, in one way or another, since leaving Vera Cruz. There was no beast of
burden but led a life preferable to theirs. For when the night came, the former could rest from his labours; but they,
fighting or watching, had no rest, day nor night. As to conquering Mexico, the very thought of it was madness. If they
had encountered such opposition from the petty republic of Tlascala, what might they not expect from the great Mexican
empire? There was now a temporary suspension of hostilities. They should avail themselves of it to retrace their steps
to Vera Cruz. It is true, the fleet there was destroyed; and by this act, unparalleled for rashness even in Roman
annals, the general had become responsible for the fate of the whole army. Still there was one vessel left. That might
be despatched to Cuba, for reinforcements and supplies; and, when these arrived, they would be enabled to resume
operations with some prospect of success.

Cortes listened to this singular expostulation with perfect composure. He knew his men, and, instead of rebuke or
harsher measures, replied in the same frank and soldier-like vein which they had affected.

There was much truth, he allowed, in what they said. The sufferings of the Spaniards had been great; greater than
those recorded of any heroes in Greek or Roman story. So much the greater would be their glory. He had often been
filled with admiration as he had seen his little host encircled by myriads of barbarians, and felt that no people but
Spaniards could have triumphed over such formidable odds. Nor could they, unless the arm of the Almighty had been over
them. And they might reasonably look for His protection hereafter; for was it not in His cause they were fighting? They
had encountered dangers and difficulties, it was true; but they had not come here expecting a life of idle dalliance
and pleasure. Glory, as he had told them at the outset, was to be won only by toil and danger. They would do him the
justice to acknowledge that he had never shrunk from his share of both. “This was a truth,” adds the honest chronicler,
who heard and reports the dialogue — which no one could deny. But, if they had met with hardships, he continued, they
had been everywhere victorious. Even now they were enjoying the fruits of this, in the plenty which reigned in the
camp. And they would soon see the Tlascalans, humbled by their late reverses, suing for peace on any terms. To go back
now was impossible. The very stones would rise up against them. The Tlascalans would hunt them in triumph down to the
water’s edge. And how would the Mexicans exult at this miserable issue of their vainglorious vaunts! Their former
friends would become their enemies; and the Totonacs, to avert the vengeance of the Aztecs, from which the Spaniards
could no longer shield them, would join in the general cry. There was no alternative, then, but to go forward in their
career. And he besought them to silence their pusillanimous scruples, and, instead of turning their eyes towards Cuba,
to fix them on Mexico, the great object of their enterprise.

While this singular conference was going on, many other soldiers had gathered round the spot; and the discontented
party, emboldened by the presence of their comrades, as well as by the general’s forbearance, replied, that they were
far from being convinced. Another such victory as the last would be their ruin. They were going to Mexico only to be
slaughtered. Until, at length, the general’s patience being exhausted, he cut the argument short by quoting a verse
from an old song, implying that it was better to die with honour, than to live disgraced; a sentiment which was loudly
echoed by the greater part of his audience, who, notwithstanding their occasional murmurs, had no design to abandon the
expedition, still less the commander, to whom they were passionately devoted. The malcontents, disconcerted by this
rebuke, slunk back to their own quarters, muttering half-smothered execrations on the leader who had projected the
enterprise, the Indians who had guided him, and their own countrymen who supported him in it.

Such were the difficulties that lay in the path of Cortes: a wily and ferocious enemy; a climate uncertain, often
unhealthy; illness in his own person, much aggravated by anxiety as to the manner in which his conduct would be
received by his sovereign; last, not least, disaffection among his soldiers, on whose constancy and union he rested for
the success of his operations — the great lever by which he was to overturn the empire of Montezuma.

On the morning following this event, the camp was surprised by the appearance of a small body of Tlascalans,
decorated with badges, the white colour of which intimated peace. They brought a quantity of provisions, and some
trifling ornaments, which, they said, were sent by the Tlascalan general, who was weary of the war, and desired an
accommodation with the Spaniards. He would soon present himself to arrange this in person. The intelligence diffused
general joy, and the emissaries received a friendly welcome.

A day or two elapsed, and while a few of the party left the Spanish quarters, the others, about fifty in number, who
remained, excited some distrust in the bosom of Marina. She communicated her suspicions to Cortes that they were spies.
He caused several of them, in consequence, to be arrested, examined them separately, and ascertained that they were
employed by Xicotencatl to inform him of the state of the Christian camp, preparatory to a meditated assault, for which
he was mustering his forces. Cortes, satisfied of the truth of this, determined to make such an example of the
delinquents as should intimidate his enemy from repeating the attempt. He ordered their hands to be cut off, and in
that condition sent them back to their countrymen, with the message, “that the Tlascalans might come by day or night;
they would find the Spaniards ready for them.”

The doleful spectacle of their comrades returning in this mutilated state filled the Indian camp with horror and
consternation. The haughty crest of their chief was humbled. From that moment, he lost his wonted buoyancy and
confidence. His soldiers, filled with superstitious fear, refused to serve longer against a foe who could read their
very thoughts, and divine their plans before they were ripe for execution.

The punishment inflicted by Cortes may well shock the reader by its brutality. But it should be considered in
mitigation, that the victims of it were spies, and, as such, by the laws of war, whether among civilised or savage
nations, had incurred the penalty of death. The amputation of the limbs was a milder punishment, and reserved for
inferior offences. If we revolt at the barbarous nature of the sentence, we should reflect that it was no uncommon one
at that day; not more uncommon, indeed, than whipping and branding with a hot iron were in our own country at the
beginning of the present century, or than cropping the ears was in the preceding one. A higher civilisation, indeed,
rejects such punishments as pernicious in themselves, and degrading to humanity. But in the sixteenth century, they
were openly recognised by the laws of the most polished nations in Europe. And it is too much to ask of any man, still
less one bred to the iron trade of war, to be in advance of the refinement of his age. We may be content, if, in
circumstances so unfavourable to humanity, he does not fall below it.

All thoughts of further resistance being abandoned, the four delegates of the Tlascalan republic were now allowed to
proceed on their mission. They were speedily followed by Xicotencatl himself, attended by a numerous train of military
retainers. As they drew near the Spanish lines, they were easily recognised by the white and yellow colours of their
uniforms, the livery of the house of Titcala. The joy of the army was great at this sure intimation of the close of
hostilities; and it was with difficulty that Cortes was enabled to restore the men to tranquillity, and the assumed
indifference which it was proper to maintain in the presence of an enemy.

The Spaniards gazed with curious eye on the valiant chief who had so long kept his enemies at bay, and who now
advanced with the firm and fearless step of one who was coming rather to bid defiance than to sue for peace. He was
rather above the middle size, with broad shoulders, and a muscular frame intimating great activity and strength. His
head was large, and his countenance marked with the lines of hard service rather than of age, for he was but
thirty-five. When he entered the presence of Cortes, he made the usual salutation, by touching the ground with his
hand, and carrying it to his head; while the sweet incense of aromatic gums rolled up in clouds from the censers
carried by his slaves.

Far from a pusillanimous attempt to throw the blame on the senate, he assumed the whole responsibility of the war.
He had considered the white men, he said, as enemies, for they came with the allies and vassals of Montezuma. He loved
his country, and wished to preserve the independence which she had maintained through her long wars with the Aztecs. He
had been beaten. They might be the strangers who, it had been so long predicted, would come from the east, to take
possession of the country. He hoped they would use their victory with moderation, and not trample on the liberties of
the republic. He came now in the name of his nation, to tender their obedience to the Spaniards, assuring them they
would find his countrymen as faithful in peace as they had been firm in war.

Cortes, far from taking umbrage, was filled with admiration at the lofty spirit which thus disdained to stoop
beneath misfortunes. The brave man knows how to respect bravery in another. He assumed, however, a severe aspect, as he
rebuked the chief for having so long persisted in bostilities. Had Xicotencatl believed the word of the Spaniards, and
accepted their proffered friendship sooner, he would have spared his people much suffering, which they well merited by
their obstinacy. But it was impossible, continued the general, to retrieve the past. He was willing to bury it in
oblivion, and to receive the Tlascalans as vassals to the emperor, his master. If they proved true, they should find
him a sure column of support; if false, he would take such vengeance on them as he had intended to take on their
capital, had they not speedily given in their submission. — It proved an ominous menace for the chief to whom it was
addressed.

The cacique then ordered his slaves to bring forward some trifling ornaments of gold and feather embroidery,
designed as presents. They were of little value, he said, with a smile, for the Tlascalans were poor. They had little
gold, not even cotton, nor salt; the Aztec emperor had left them nothing but their freedom and their arms. He offered
this gift only as a token of his good will. “As such I receive it,” answered Cortes, “and coming from the Tlascalans,
set more value on it than I should from any other source, though it were a house full of gold”; a politic, as well as
magnanimous reply, for it was by the aid of this good will that he was to win the gold of Mexico.

Thus ended the bloody war with the fierce republic of Tlascala, during the course of which, the fortunes of the
Spaniards, more than once, had trembled in the balance. Had it been persevered in but a little longer, it must have
ended in their confusion and ruin, exhausted as they were by wounds, watching, and fatigues, with the seeds of
disaffection rankling among themselves. As it was, they came out of the fearful contest with untarnished glory. To the
enemy, they seemed invulnerable, bearing charmed lives, proof alike against the accidents of fortune and the assaults
of man. No wonder that they indulged a similar conceit in their own bosoms, and that the humblest Spaniard should have
fancied himself the subject of a special interposition of providence, which shielded him in the hour of battle, and
reserved him for a higher destiny.

While the Tlascalans were still in the camp, an embassy was announced from Montezuma. Tidings of the exploits of the
Spaniards had spread far and wide over the plateau. The emperor, in particular, had watched every step of their
progress, as they climbed the steeps of the Cordilleras, and advanced over the broad tableland on their summit. He had
seen them, with great satisfaction, take the road to Tlascala, trusting that, if they were mortal men, they would find
their graves there. Great was his dismay, when courier after courier brought him intelligence of their successes, and
that the most redoubtable warriors on the plateau had been scattered like chaff by the swords of this handful of
strangers.

His superstitious fears returned in full force. He saw in the Spaniards “the men of destiny” who were to take
possession of his sceptre. In his alarm and uncertainty, he sent a new embassy to the Christian camp. It consisted of
five great nobles of his court, attended by a train of two hundred slaves. They brought with them a present, as usual,
dictated partly by fear, and, in part, by the natural munificence of his disposition. It consisted of three thousand
ounces of gold, in grains, or in various manufactured articles, with several hundred mantles and dresses of embroidered
cotton, and the picturesque feather-work. As they laid these at the feet of Cortes, they told him, they had come to
offer the congratulations of their master on the late victories of the white men. The emperor only regretted that it
would not be in his power to receive them in his capital, where the numerous population was so unruly, that their
safety would be placed in jeopardy. The mere intimation of the Aztec emperor’s wishes, in the most distant way, would
have sufficed with the Indian nations. It had very little weight with the Spaniards; and the envoys, finding this
puerile expression of them ineffectual, resorted to another argument, offering a tribute in their master’s name to the
Castilian sovereign, provided the Spaniards would relinquish their visit to his capital. This was a greater error; it
was displaying the rich casket with one hand, which he was unable to defend with the other. Yet the author of this
pusillanimous policy, the unhappy victim of superstition, was a monarch renowned among the Indian nations for his
intrepidity and enterprise — the terror of Anahuac!

Cortes, while he urged his own sovereign’s commands as a reason for disregarding the wishes of Montezuma, uttered
expressions of the most profound respect for the Aztec prince, and declared that if he had not the means of requiting
his munificence, as he could wish, at present, he trusted to repay him, at some future day, with good works!

The Mexican ambassadors were not much gratified with finding the war at an end, and a reconciliation established
between their mortal enemies and the Spaniards. The mutual disgust of the two parties with each other was too strong to
be repressed even in the presence of the general, who saw with satisfaction the evidences of a jealousy, which,
undermining the strength of the Indian emperor, was to prove the surest source of his own success.

Two of the Aztec mission returned to Mexico, to acquaint their sovereign with the state of affairs in the Spanish
camp. The others remained with the army, Cortes being willing that they should be personal spectators of the deference
shown him by the Tlascalans. Still he did not hasten his departure for their capital. Not that he placed reliance on
the injurious intimations of the Mexicans respecting their good faith. Yet he was willing to put this to some longer
trial, and, at the same time, to re-establish his own health more thoroughly, before his visit. Meanwhile, messengers
daily arrived from the city, pressing his journey, and were finally followed by some of the aged rulers of the
republic, attended by a numerous retinue, impatient of his long delay. They brought with them a body of five hundred
tamanes, or men of burden, to drag his cannon, and relieve his own forces from this fatiguing part of their duty. It
was impossible to defer his departure longer; and after mass, and a solemn thanksgiving to the great Being who had
crowned their arms with triumph, the Spaniards bade adieu to the quarters which they had occupied for nearly three
weeks on the hill of Tzompach.

Chapter V 1519

THE city of Tlascala, the capital of the republic of the same name, lay at the distance of about six leagues from
the Spanish camp. The road led into a hilly region, exhibiting in every arable patch of ground the evidence of
laborious cultivation. Over a deep barranca, or ravine, they crossed on a bridge of stone, which, according to
tradition — a slippery authority — is the same still standing, and was constructed originally for the passage of the
army. They passed some considerable towns on their route, where they experienced a full measure of Indian hospitality.
As they advanced, the approach to a populous city was intimated by the crowds who flocked out to see and welcome the
strangers; men and women in their picturesque dresses, with bunches and wreaths of roses, which they gave to the
Spaniards, or fastened to the necks and caparisons of their horses, in the manner as at Cempoalla. Priests, with their
white robes, and long matted tresses floating over them, mingled in the crowd, scattering volumes of incense from their
burning censers. In this way, the multitudinous and motley procession defiled through the gates of the ancient capital
of Tlascala. It was the 23rd of September, 1519.

The press was now so great, that it was with difficulty the police of the city could clear a passage for the army;
while the azoteas, or flat-terraced roofs of the buildings, were covered with spectators, eager to catch a glimpse of
the wonderful strangers. The houses were hung with festoons of flowers, and arches of verdant boughs, intertwined with
roses and honeysuckle, were thrown across the streets. The whole population abandoned itself to rejoicing; and the air
was rent with songs and shouts of triumph mingled with the wild music of the national instruments, that might have
excited apprehensions in the breasts of the soldiery, had they not gathered their peaceful import from the assurance of
Marina, and the joyous countenances of the natives.

With these accompaniments, the procession moved along the principal streets to the mansion of Xicotencatl, the aged
father of the Tlascalan general, and one of the four rulers of the republic. Cortes dismounted from his horse, to
receive the old chieftain’s embrace. He was nearly blind; and satisfied, as far as he could, a natural curiosity
respecting the person of the Spanish general, by passing his hand over his features. He then led the way to a spacious
hall in his palace, where a banquet was served to the army. In the evening, they were shown to their quarters, in the
buildings and open ground surrounding one of the principal teocallis; while the Mexican ambassadors, at the desire of
Cortes, had apartments assigned them next to his own, that he might the better watch over their safety, in this city of
their enemies.

Tlascala was one of the most important and populous towns on the tableland. Cortes, in his letter to the emperor,
compares it to Granada, affirming that it was larger, stronger, and more populous than the Moorish capital, at the time
of the conquest, and quite as well built. But notwithstanding we are assured by a most respectable writer at the close
of the last century that its remains justify the assertion, we shall be slow to believe that its edifices could have
rivalled those monuments of Oriental magnificence, whose light, aerial forms still survive after the lapse of ages, the
admiration of every traveller of sensibility and taste. The truth is, that Cortes, like Columbus, saw objects through
the warm medium of his own fond imagination, giving them a higher tone of colouring and larger dimensions than were
strictly warranted by the fact. It was natural that the man who had made such rare discoveries should unconsciously
magnify their merits to his own eyes and to those of others.

The houses were, for the most part, of mud or earth; the better sort of stone and lime, or bricks dried in the sun.
They were unprovided with doors or windows, but in the apertures for the former hung mats fringed with pieces of copper
or something which, by its tinkling sound, would give notice of any one’s entrance. The streets were narrow and dark.
The population must have been considerable if, as Cortes asserts, thirty thousand souls were often gathered in the
market on a public day. These meetings were a sort of fairs, held, as usual in all the great towns, every fifth day,
and attended by the inhabitants of the adjacent country, who brought there for sale every description of domestic
produce and manufacture with which they were acquainted. They peculiarly excelled in pottery, which was considered as
equal to the best in Europe. It is a further proof of civilised habits, that the Spaniards found barbers’ shops, and
baths, both of vapour and hot water, familiarly used by the inhabitants. A still higher proof of refinement may be
discerned in a vigilant police which repressed everything like disorder among the people.

The city was divided into four quarters, which might rather be called so many separate towns, since they were built
at different times, and separated from each other by high stone walls, defining their respective limits. Over each of
these districts ruled one of the four great chiefs of the republic, occupying his own spacious mansion, and surrounded
by his own immediate vassals. Strange arrangement — and more strange that it should have been compatible with social
order and tranquillity! The ancient capital, through one quarter of which flowed the rapid current of the Zahuatl,
stretched along the summits and sides of hills, at whose base are now gathered the miserable remains of its once
flourishing population. Far beyond, to the south-west, extended the bold sierra of Tlascala, and the huge Malinche,
crowned with the usual silver diadem of the highest Andes, having its shaggy sides clothed with dark green forests of
firs, gigantic sycamores, and oaks whose towering stems rose to the height of forty or fifty feet, unencumbered by a
branch. The clouds, which sailed over from the distant Atlantic, gathered round the lofty peaks of the sierra, and,
settling into torrents, poured over the plains in the neighbourhood of the city, converting them, at such seasons, into
swamps. Thunderstorms, more frequent and terrible here than in other parts of the tableland, swept down the sides of
the mountains, and shook the frail tenements of the capital to their foundations. But, although the bleak winds of the
sierra gave an austerity to the climate, unlike the sunny skies and genial temperature of the lower regions, it was far
more favourable to the development of both the physical and moral energies. A bold and hardy peasantry was nurtured
among the recesses of the hills, fit equally to cultivate the land in peace and to defend it in war. Unlike the spoiled
child of Nature, who derives such facilities of subsistence from her too prodigal hand, as supersede the necessity of
exertion on his own part, the Tlascalan earned his bread — from a soil not ungrateful, it is true — by the sweat of his
brow. He led a life of temperance and toil. Cut off by his long wars with the Aztecs from commercial intercourse, he
was driven chiefly to agricultural labour, the occupation most propitious to purity of morals and sinewy strength of
constitution. His honest breast glowed with the patriotism — or local attachment to the soil, which is the fruit of its
diligent culture; while he was elevated by a proud consciousness of independence, the natural birthright of the child
of the mountains. — Such was the race with whom Cortes was now associated for the achievement of his great work.

Some days were given by the Spaniards to festivity, in which they were successively entertained at the hospitable
boards of the four great nobles, in their several quarters of the city. Amidst these friendly demonstrations, however,
the general never relaxed for a moment his habitual vigilance, or the strict discipline of the camp; and he was careful
to provide for the security of the citizens by prohibiting, under severe penalties, any soldier from leaving his
quarters without express permission. Indeed, the severity of his discipline provoked the remonstrance of more than one
of his officers, as a superfluous caution; and the Tlascalan chiefs took some exception at it, as inferring an
unreasonable distrust of them. But, when Cortes explained it, as in obedience to an established military system, they
testified their admiration, and the ambitious young general of the republic proposed to introduce it, if possible, into
his own ranks.

The Spanish commander, having assured himself of the loyalty of his new allies, next proposed to accomplish one of
the great objects of his mission — their conversion to Christianity. By the advice of Father Olmedo, always opposed to
precipitate measures, he had deferred this till a suitable opportunity presented itself for opening the subject. Such a
one occurred when the chiefs of the state proposed to strengthen the alliance with the Spaniards, by the intermarriage
of their daughters with Cortes and his officers. He told them this could not be, while they continued in the darkness
of infidelity. Then, with the aid of the good friar, he expounded as well as he could the doctrines of the Faith; and,
exhibiting the image of the Virgin with the infant Redeemer, told them that there was the God, in whose worship alone
they would find salvation, while that of their own false idols would sink them in eternal perdition.

It is unnecessary to burden the reader with a recapitulation of his homily, which contained, probably, dogmas quite
as incomprehensible to the untutored Indian as any to be found in his own rude mythology. But, though it failed to
convince his audience, they listened with a deferential awe. When he had finished, they replied, they had no doubt that
the God of the Christians must be a good and a great God, and as such they were willing to give him a place among the
divinities of Tlascala. The polytheistic system of the Indians, like that of the ancient Greeks, was of that
accommodating kind which could admit within its elastic folds the deities of any other religion, without violence to
itself. But every nation, they continued, must have its own appropriate and tutelary deities. Nor could they, in their
old age, abjure the service of those who had watched over them from youth. It would bring down the vengeance of their
gods, and of their own nation, who were as warmly attached to their religion as their liberties, and would defend both
with the last drop of their blood!

It was clearly inexpedient to press the matter further, at present. But the zeal of Cortes, as usual, waxing warm by
opposition, had now mounted too high for him to calculate obstacles; nor would he have shrunk, probably, from the crown
of martyrdom in so good a cause. But fortunately, at least for the success of his temporal cause, this crown was not
reserved for him.

The good monk, his ghostly adviser, seeing the course things were likely to take, with better judgment interposed to
prevent it. He had no desire, he said, to see the same scenes acted over again as at Cempoalla. He had no relish for
forced conversions. They could hardly be lasting. The growth of an hour might well die with the hour. Of what use was
it to overturn the altar, if the idol remained enthroned in the heart? or to destroy the idol itself, if it were only
to make room for another? Better to wait patiently the effect of time and teaching to soften the heart and open the
understanding, without which there could be no assurance of a sound and permanent conviction. These rational views were
enforced by the remonstrances of Alvarado, Velasquez de Leon, and those in whom Cortes placed most confidence; till,
driven from his original purpose, the military polemic consented to relinquish the attempt at conversion, for the
present, and to refrain from a repetition of the scenes, which, considering the different mettle of the population,
might have been attended with very different results from those at Cozumel and Cempoalla.

But though Cortes abandoned the ground of conversion for the present, he compelled the Tlascalans to break the
fetters of the unfortunate victims reserved for sacrifice; an act of humanity unhappily only transient in its effects,
since the prisons were filled with fresh victims on his departure.

He also obtained permission for the Spaniards to perform the services of their own religion unmolested. A large
cross was erected in one of the great courts or squares. Mass was celebrated every day in the presence of the army and
of crowds of natives, who, if they did not comprehend its full import, were so far edified, that they learned to
reverence the religion of their conquerors. The direct interposition of Heaven, however, wrought more for their
conversion than the best homily of priest or soldier. Scarcely had the Spaniards left the city — the tale is told on
very respectable authority — when a thin, transparent cloud descended and settled like a column on the cross, and,
wrapping it round in its luminous folds, continued to emit a soft, celestial radiance through the night, thus
proclaiming the sacred character of the symbol, on which was shed the halo of divinity!

The principle of toleration in religious matters being established, the Spanish general consented to receive the
daughters of the caciques. Five or six of the most beautiful Indian maidens were assigned to as many of his principal
officers, after they had been cleansed from the stains of infidelity by the waters of baptism. They received, as usual,
on this occasion, good Castilian names, in exchange for the barbarous nomenclature of their own vernacular.

Among them, Xicotencatl’s daughter, Dona Luisa, as she was called after her baptism, was a princess of the highest
estimation and authority in Tlascala. She was given by her father to Alvarado, and their posterity intermarried with
the noblest families of Castile. The frank and joyous manners of this cavalier made him a great favourite with the
Tlascalans; and his bright open countenance, fair complexion, and golden locks, gave him the name of Tonatiuh, the
“Sun.” The Indians often pleased their fancies by fastening a sobriquet, or some characteristic epithet, on the
Spaniards. As Cortes was always attended, on public occasions, by Dona Marina, or Malinche, as she was called by the
natives, they distinguished him by the same name. By these epithets, originally bestowed in Tlascala, the two Spanish
captains were popularly designated among the Indian nations.

While these events were passing, another embassy arrived from the court of Mexico. It was charged, as usual, with a
costly donative of embossed gold plate, and rich embroidered stuffs of cotton and feather-work. The terms of the
message might well argue a vacillating and timid temper in the monarch, did they not mask a deeper policy. He now
invited the Spaniards to his capital, with the assurance of a cordial welcome. He besought them to enter into no
alliance with the base and barbarous Tlascalans; and he invited them to take the route of the friendly city of Cholula,
where arrangements, according to his orders, were made for their reception.

The Tlascalans viewed with deep regret the general’s proposed visit to Mexico. Their reports fully confirmd all he
had before heard of the power and ambition of Montezuma. His armies, they said, were spread over every part of the
continent. His capital was a place of great strength, and as, from its insular position, all communication could be
easily cut off with the adjacent country, the Spaniards, once entrapped there, would be at his mercy. His policy, they
represented, was as insidious as his ambition was boundless. “Trust not his fair words,” they said, “his courtesies,
and his gifts. His professions are hollow, and his friendships are false.” When Cortes remarked, that he hoped to bring
about a better understanding between the emperor and them, they replied, it would be impossible; however smooth his
words, he would hate them at heart.

They warmly protested, also, against the general’s taking the route of Cholula. The inhabitants, not brave in the
open field, were more dangerous from their perfidy and craft. They were Montezuma’s tools, and would do his bidding.
The Tlascalans seemed to combine with this distrust a superstitious dread of the ancient city, the headquarters of the
religion of Anahuac. It was here that the god Quetzalcoatl held the pristine seat of his empire. His temple was
celebrated throughout the land, and the priests were confidently believed to have the power, as they themselves
boasted, of opening an inundation from the foundations of his shrine, which should bury their enemies in the deluge.
The Tlascalans further reminded Cortes, that while so many other and distant places had sent to him at Tlascala, to
testify their good will, and offer their allegiance to his sovereign, Cholula, only six leagues distant, had done
neither. The last suggestion struck the general more forcibly than any of the preceding. He instantly despatched a
summons to the city requiring a formal tender of its submission.

Among the embassies from different quarters which had waited on the Spanish commander, while at Tlascala, was one
from Ixtlilxochitl, son of the great Nezahualpilli, and an unsuccessful competitor with his elder brother — as noticed
in a former part of our narrative — for the crown of Tezcuco. Though defeated in his pretensions, he had obtained a
part of the kingdom, over which he ruled with a deadly feeling of animosity towards his rival, and to Montezuma, who
had sustained him. He now offered his services to Cortes, asking his aid, in return, to place him on the throne of his
ancestors. The politic general returned such an answer to the aspiring young prince, as might encourage his
expectations, and attach him to his interests. It was his aim to strengthen his cause by attracting to himself every
particle of disaffection that was floating through the land.

It was not long before deputies arrived from Cholula, profuse in their expressions of good will, and inviting the
presence of the Spaniards in their capital. The messengers were of low degree, far beneath the usual rank of
ambassadors. This was pointed out by the Tlascalans; and Cortes regarded it as a fresh indignity. He sent in
consequence a new summons, declaring, if they did not instantly send him a deputation of their principal men, he would
deal with them as rebels to his own sovereign, the rightful lord of these realms! The menace had the desired effect.
The Cholulans were not inclined to contest, at least for the present, his magnificent pretensions. Another embassy
appeared in the camp, consisting of some of the highest nobles; who repeated the invitation for the Spaniards to visit
their city, and excused their own tardy appearance by apprehensions for their personal safety in the capital of their
enemies. The explanation was plausible, and was admitted by Cortes.

The Tlascalans were now more than ever opposed to his projected visit. A strong Aztec force, they had ascertained,
lay in the neighbourhood of Cholula, and the people were actively placing their city in a posture of defence. They
suspected some insidious scheme concerted by Montezuma to destroy the Spaniards.

These suggestions disturbed the mind of Cortes, but did not turn him from his purpose. He felt a natural curiosity
to see the venerable city so celebrated in the history of the Indian nations. He had, besides, gone too far to recede —
too far, at least, to do so without a show of apprehension, implying a distrust in his own resources, which could not
fail to have a bad effect on his enemies, his allies, and his own men. After a brief consultation with his officers, he
decided on the route to Cholula.

It was now three weeks since the Spaniards had taken up their residence within the hospitable walls of Tlascala; and
nearly six since they entered her territory. They had been met on the threshold as an enemy, with the most determined
hostility. They were now to part with the same people, as friends and allies; fast friends, who were to stand by them,
side by side, through the whole of their arduous struggle. The result of their visit, therefore, was of the last
importance, since on the co-operation of these brave and warlike republicans, greatly depended the ultimate success of
the expedition.

Chapter VI 1519

CITY OF CHOLULA— GREAT TEMPLE— MARCH TO CHOLULA— RECEPTION ACCORDED THE SPANIARDS— CONSPIRACY
DETECTED

THE ancient city of Cholula, capital of the republic of that name, lay nearly six leagues south of Tlascala, and
about twenty east, or rather south-east of Mexico. It was said by Cortes to contain twenty thousand houses within the
walls, and as many more in the environs. Whatever was its real number of inhabitants, it was unquestionably, at the
time of the Conquest, one of the most populous and flourishing cities in New Spain.

It was of great antiquity, and was founded by the primitive races who overspread the land before the Aztecs. We have
few particulars of its form of government, which seems to have been cast on a republican model similar to that of
Tlascala. This answered so well, that the state maintained its independence down to a very late period, when, if not
reduced to vassalage by the Aztecs, it was so far under their control as to enjoy few of the benefits of a separate
political existence. Their connection with Mexico brought the Cholulans into frequent collision with their neighbours
and kindred, the Tlascalans. But, although far superior to them in refinement and the various arts of civilisation,
they were no match in war for the bold mountaineers, the Swiss of Anahuac. The Cholulan capital was the great
commercial emporium of the plateau. The inhabitants excelled in various mechanical arts, especially that of working in
metals, the manufacture of cotton and agave cloths, and of a delicate kind of pottery, rivalling, it was said, that of
Florence in beauty. But such attention to the arts of a polished and peaceful community naturally indisposed them to
war, and disqualified them for coping with those who made war the great business of life. The Cholulans were accused of
effeminacy, and were less distinguished — it is the charge of their rivals — by their courage than their cunning.

But the capital, so conspicuous for its refinement and its great antiquity, was even more venerable for the
religious traditions which invested it. It was here that the god Quetzalcoatl paused in his passage to the coast, and
passed twenty years in teaching the Toltec inhabitants the arts of civilisation. He made them acquainted with better
forms of government, and a more spiritualised religion, in which the only sacrifices were the fruits and flowers of the
season. It is not easy to determine what he taught, since, his lessons have been so mingled with the licentious dogmas
of his own priests, and the mystic commentaries of the Christian missionary. It is probable that he was one of those
rare and gifted beings, who dissipating the darkness of the age by the illumination of their own genius, are deified by
a grateful posterity, and placed among the lights of heaven.

It was in honour of this benevolent deity, that the stupendous mound was erected on which the traveller still gazes
with admiration as the most colossal fabric in New Spain, rivalling in dimensions, and somewhat resembling in form, the
pyramidal structures of ancient Egypt. The date of its erection is unknown, for it was found there when the Aztecs
entered on the plateau. It had the form common to the Mexican teocallis, that of a truncated pyramid, facing with its
four sides the cardinal points, and divided into the same number of terraces. Its original outlines, however, have been
effaced by the action of time and of the elements, while the exuberant growth of shrubs and wild flowers, which have
mantled over its surface, give it the appearance of one of those symmetrical elevations thrown up by the caprice of
nature, rather than by the industry of man. It is doubtful, indeed, whether the interior be not a natural hill, though
it seems not improbable that it is an artificial composition of stone and earth, deeply incrusted, as is certain, in
every part, with alternate strata of brick and clay.

The perpendicular height of the pyramid is one hundred and seventy-seven feet. Its base is one thousand four hundred
and twenty-three feet long, twice as long as that of the great pyramid of Cheops. It may give some idea of its
dimensions to state, that its base, which is square, covers about forty-four acres, and the platform on its truncated
summit, embraces more than one. It reminds us of those colossal monuments of brickwork, which are still seen in ruins
on the banks of the Euphrates, and, in much higher preservation, on those of the Nile.

On the summit stood a sumptuous temple, in which was the image of the mystic deity, “god of the air,” with ebon
features, unlike the fair complexion which he bore upon earth, wearing a mitre on his head waving with plumes of fire,
with a resplendent collar of gold round his neck, pendants of mosaic turquoise in his ears, a jewelled sceptre in one
hand, and a shield curiously painted, the emblem of his rule over the winds, in the other. The sanctity of the place,
hallowed by hoary tradition, and the magnificence of the temple and its services, made it an object of veneration
throughout the land, and pilgrims from the furthest corners of Anahuac came to offer up their devotions at the shrine
of Quetzalcoatl. The number of these was so great, as to give an air of mendicity to the motley population of the city;
and Cortes, struck with the novelty, tells us that he saw multitudes of beggars such as are to be found in the
enlightened capitals of Europe; — a whimsical criterion of civilisation which must place our own prosperous land
somewhat low in the scale.

Cholula was not the resort only of the indigent devotee. Many of the kindred races had temples of their own in the
city, in the same manner as some Christian nations have in Rome, and each temple was provided with its own peculiar
ministers for the service of the deity to whom it was consecrated. In no city was there seen such a concourse of
priests, so many processions, such pomp of ceremonial sacrifice, and religious festivals. Cholula was, in short, what
Mecca is among Mahometans, or Jerusalem among Christians; it was the Holy City of Anahuac.

The religious rites were not performed, however, in the pure spirit originally prescribed by its tutelary deity. His
altars, as well as those of the numerous Aztec gods, were stained with human blood; and six thousand victims are said
to have been annually offered up at their sanguinary shrines. The great number of these may be estimated from the
declaration of Cortes, that he counted four hundred towers in the city; yet no temple had more than two, many only one.
High above the rest rose the great “Pyramid of Cholula,” with its undying fires flinging their radiance over the
capital, and proclaiming to the nations that there was the mystic worship — alas! how corrupted by cruelty and
superstition — of the good deity who was one day to return and resume his empire over the land.

But it is time to return to Tlascala. On the appointed morning the Spanish army took up its march to Mexico by the
way of Cholula. It was followed by crowds of the citizens, filled with admiration at the intrepidity of men who, so few
in number, would venture to brave the great Montezuma in his capital. Yet an immense body of warriors offered to share
the dangers of the expedition; but Cortes, while he showed his gratitude for their good will, selected only six
thousand of the volunteers to bear him company. He was unwilling to encumber himself with an unwieldy force that might
impede his movements; and probably did not care to put himself so far in the power of allies whose attachment was too
recent to afford sufficient guaranty for their fidelity.

After crossing some rough and hilly ground, the army entered on the wide plain which spreads out for miles around
Cholula. At the elevation of more than six thousand feet above the sea they beheld the rich products of various climes
growing side by side, fields of towering maize, the juicy aloe, the chilli or Aztec pepper, and large plantations of
the cactus, on which the brilliant cochineal is nourished. Not a rood of land but was under cultivation; and the soil —
an uncommon thing on the tableland — was irrigated by numerous streams and canals, and well shaded by woods, that have
disappeared before the rude axe of the Spaniards. Towards evening they reached a small stream, on the banks of which
Cortes determined to take up his quarters for the night, being unwilling to disturb the tranquillity of the city by
introducing so large a force into it at an unseasonable hour.

Here he was soon joined by a number of Cholulan caciques and their attendants, who came to view and welcome the
strangers. When they saw their Tlascalan enemies in the camp, however, they exhibited signs of displeasure, and
intimated an apprehension that their presence in the town might occasion disorder. The remonstrance seemed reasonable
to Cortes, and he accordingly commanded his allies to remain in their present quarters, and to join him as he left the
city on the way to Mexico.

On the following morning he made his entrance at the head of his army into Cholula, attended by no other Indians
than those from Cempoalla, and a handful of Tlascalans to take charge of the baggage. His allies, at parting, gave him
many cautions respecting the people he was to visit, who, while they affected to despise them as a nation of traders,
employed the dangerous arms of perfidy and cunning. As the troops drew near the city, the road was lined with swarms of
people of both sexes and every age — old men tottering with infirmity, women with children in their arms, all eager to
catch a glimpse of the strangers, whose persons, weapons, and horses were objects of intense curiosity to eyes which
had not hitherto ever encountered them in battle. The Spaniards, in turn, were filled with admiration at the aspect of
the Cholulans, much superior in dress and general appearance to the nations they had hitherto seen. They were
particularly struck with the costume of the higher classes, who wore fine embroidered mantles, resembling the graceful
albornoz, or Moorish cloak, in their texture and fashion. They showed the same delicate taste for flowers as the other
tribes of the plateau, decorating their persons with them, and tossing garlands and bunches among the soldiers. An
immense number of priests mingled. with the crowd, swinging their aromatic censers, while music from various kinds of
instruments gave a lively welcome to the visitors, and made the whole scene one of gay, bewildering enchantment. If it
did not have the air of a triumphal procession so much as at Tlascala, where the melody of instruments was drowned by
the shouts of the multitude, it gave a quiet assurance of hospitality and friendly feeling not less grateful.

The Spaniards were also struck with the cleanliness of the city, the width and great regularity of the streets,
which seemed to have been laid out on a settled plan, with the solidity of the houses, and the number and size of the
pyramidal temples. In the court of one of these, and its surrounding buildings, they were quartered.

They were soon visited by the principal lords of the place, who seemed solicitous to provide them with
accommodations. Their table was plentifully supplied, and, in short, they experienced such attentions as were
calculated to dissipate their suspicions, and made them impute those of their Tlascalan friends to prejudice and old
national hostility.

In a few days the scene changed. Messengers arrived from Montezuma, who, after a short and unpleasant intimation to
Cortes that his approach occasioned much disquietude to their master, conferred separately with the Mexican ambassadors
still in the Castilian camp, and then departed, taking one of the latter along with them. From this time, the
deportment of their Cholulan hosts underwent a visible alteration. They did not visit the quarters as before, and, when
invited to do so, excused themselves on pretence of illness. The supply of provisions was stinted, on the ground that
they were short of maize. These symptoms of alienation, independently of temporary embarrassment, caused serious alarm
in the breast of Cortes, for the future. His apprehensions were not allayed by the reports of the Cempoallans, who told
him, that in wandering round the city they had seen several streets barricaded; the azoteas, or flat roofs of the
houses, loaded with huge stones and other missiles, as if preparatory to an assault; and in some places they had found
holes covered over with branches, and upright stakes planted within, as if to embarrass the movements of the cavalry.
Some Tlascalans coming in also from their camp, informed the general that a great sacrifice, mostly of children, had
been offered up in a distant quarter of the town, to propitiate the favour of the gods, apparently for some intended
enterprise. They added, that they had seen numbers of the citizens leaving the city with their women and children, as
if to remove them to a place of safety. These tidings confirmed the worst suspicions of Cortes, who had no doubt that
some hostile scheme was in agitation. If he had felt any, a discovery by Marina, the good angel of the expedition,
would have turned these doubts into certainty.

The amiable manners of the Indian girl had won her the regard of the wife of one of the caciques, who repeatedly
urged Marina to visit her house, darkly intimating that in this way she would escape the fate that awaited the
Spaniards. The interpreter, seeing the importance of obtaining further intelligence at once, pretended to be pleased
with the proposal, and affected, at the same time, great discontent with the white men, by whom she was detained in
captivity. Thus throwing the credulous Cholulan off her guard, Marina gradually insinuated herself into her confidence,
so far as to draw from her a full account of the conspiracy.

It originated, she said, with the Aztec emperor, who had sent rich bribes to the great caciques, and to her husband
among others, to secure them in his views. The Spaniards were to be assaulted as they marched out of the capital, when
entangled in its streets, in which numerous impediments had been placed to throw the cavalry into disorder. A force of
twenty thousand Mexicans was already quartered at no great distance from the city, to support the Cholulans in the
assault. It was confidently expected that the Spaniards, thus embarrassed in their movements, would fall an easy prey
to the superior strength of their enemy. A sufficient number of prisoners was to be reserved to grace the sacrifices of
Cholula; the rest were to be led in fetters to the capital of Montezuma.

While this conversation was going on, Marina occupied herself with putting up such articles of value and wearing
apparel as she proposed to take with her in the evening, when she could escape unnoticed from the Spanish quarters to
the house of her Cholulan friend, who assisted her in the operation. Leaving her visitor thus employed, Marina found an
opportunity to steal away for a few moments, and, going to the general’s apartment, disclosed to him her discoveries.
He immediately caused the cacique’s wife to be seized, and on examination she fully confirmed the statement of his
Indian mistress.

The intelligence thus gathered by Cortes filled him with the deepest alarm. He was fairly taken in the snare. To
fight or to fly seemed equally difficult. He was in a city of enemies, where every house might be converted into a
fortress, and where such embarrassments were thrown in the way, as might render the manoeuvres of his artillery and
horse nearly impracticable. In addition to the wily Cholulans, he must cope, under all these disadvantages, with the
redoubtable warriors of Mexico. He was like a traveller who has lost his way in the darkness among precipices, where
any step may dash him to pieces, and where to retreat or to advance is equally perilous.

He was desirous to obtain still further confirmation and particulars of the conspiracy. He accordingly induced two
of the priests in the neighbourhood, one of them a person of much influence in the place, to visit his quarters. By
courteous treatment, and liberal largesses of the rich presents he had received from Montezuma — thus turning his own
gifts against the giver — he drew from them a full confirmation of the previous report. The emperor had been in a state
of pitiable vacillation since the arrival of the Spaniards. His first orders to the Cholulans were, to receive the
strangers kindly. He had recently consulted his oracles anew, and obtained for answer, that Cholula would be the grave
of his enemies; for the gods would be sure to support him in avenging the sacrilege offered to the Holy City. So
confident were the Aztecs of success, that numerous manacles, or poles with thongs which served as such, were already
in the place to secure the prisoners.

Cortes, now feeling himself fully possessed of the facts, dismissed the priests, with injunctions of secrecy,
scarcely necessary. He told them it was his purpose to leave the city on the following morning, and requested that they
would induce some of the principal caciques to grant him an interview in his quarters. He then summoned a council of
his officers, though, as it seems, already determined as to the course he was to take.

The members of the council were differently affected by the startling intelligence, according to their different
characters. The more timid, disheartened by the prospect of obstacles which seemed to multiply as they drew nearer the
Mexican capital, were for retracing their steps, and seeking shelter in the friendly city of Tlascala. Others, more
persevering, but prudent, were for taking the more northerly route originally recommended by their allies. The greater
part supported the general, who was ever of opinion that they had no alternative but to advance. Retreat would be ruin.
Half-way measures were scarcely better; and would infer a timidity which must discredit them with both friend and foe.
Their true policy was to rely on themselves; to strike such a blow as should intimidate their enemies, and show them
that the Spaniards were as incapable of being circumvented by artifice, as of being crushed by weight of numbers and
courage in the open field.

When the caciques, persuaded by the priests, appeared before Cortes, he contented himself with gently rebuking their
want of hospitality, and assured them the Spaniards would be no longer a burden to their city, as he proposed to leave
it early on the following morning. He requested, moreover, that they would furnish a reinforcement of two thousand men
to transport his artillery and baggage. The chiefs, after some consultation, acquiesced in a demand which might in some
measure favour their own designs.

On their departure, the general summoned the Aztec ambassadors before him. He briefly acquainted them with his
detection of the treacherous plot to destroy his army, the contrivance of which, he said, was imputed to their master,
Montezuma. It grieved him much, he added, to find the emperor implicated in so nefarious a scheme, and that the
Spaniards must now march as enemies against the prince, whom they had hoped to visit as a friend.

The ambassadors, with earnest protestations, asserted their entire ignorance of the conspiracy; and their belief
that Montezuma was equally innocent of a crime, which they charged wholly on the Cholulans. It was clearly the policy
of Cortes to keep on good terms with the Indian monarch; to profit as long as possible by his good offices; and to
avail himself of his fancied security — such feelings of security as the general could inspire him with — to cover his
own future operations. He affected to give credit, therefore, to the assertion of the envoys, and declared his
unwillingness to believe that a monarch, who had rendered the Spaniards so many friendly offices, would now consummate
the whole by a deed of such unparalleled baseness. The discovery of their twofold duplicity, he added, sharpened his
resentment against the Cholulans, on whom he would take such vengeance as should amply requite the injuries done both
to Montezuma and the Spaniards. He then dismissed the ambassadors, taking care, notwithstanding this show of
confidence, to place a strong guard over them, to prevent communication with the citizens.

That night was one of deep anxiety to the army. The ground they stood on seemed loosening beneath their feet, and
any moment might be the one marked for their destruction. Their vigilant general took all possible precautions for
their safety, increasing the number of the sentinels, and posting his guns in such a manner as to protect the
approaches to the camp. His eyes, it may well be believed, did not close during the night. Indeed every Spaniard lay
down in his arms, and every horse stood saddled and bridled, ready for instant service. But no assault was meditated by
the Indians, and the stillness of the hour was undisturbed except by the occasional sounds heard in a populous city,
even when buried in slumber, and by the hoarse cries of the priests from the turrets of the teocallis, proclaiming
through their trumpets the watches of the night.

Chapter VII 1519

TERRIBLE MASSACRE— TRANQUILLITY RESTORED— REFLECTIONS ON THE MASSACRE— FURTHER PROCEEDINGS— ENVOYS
FROM MONTEZUMA

WITH the first streak of morning light, Cortes was seen on horseback, directing the movements of his little band.
The strength of his forces he drew up in the great square or court, surrounded partly by buildings, as before noticed,
and in part by a high wall. There were three gates of entrance, at each of which he placed a strong guard. The rest of
his troops, with his great guns, he posted without the enclosure, in such a manner as to command the avenues, and
secure those within from interruption in their bloody work. Orders had been sent the night before to the Tlascalan
chiefs to hold themselves ready, at a concerted signal, to march into the city and join the Spaniards.

The arrangements were hardly completed, before the Cholulan caciques appeared, leading a body of levies, tamanes,
even more numerous than had been demanded. They were marched at once into the square, commanded, as we have seen, by
the Spanish infantry, which was drawn up under the walls. Cortes then took some of the caciques aside. With a stern
air, he bluntly charged them with the conspiracy, showing that he was well acquainted with all the particulars. He had
visited their city, he said, at the invitation of their emperor; had come as friend; had respected the inhabitants and
their property; and, to avoid all cause of umbrage, had left a great part of his forces without the walls. They had
received him with a show of kindness and hospitality, and, reposing on this, he had been decoyed into the snare, and
found this kindness only a mask to cover the blackest perfidy.

The Cholulans were thunderstruck at the accusation. An undefined awe crept over them as they gazed on the mysterious
strangers, and felt themselves in the presence of beings who seemed to have the power of reading the thoughts scarcely
formed in their bosoms. There was no use in prevarication or denial before such judges. They confessed the whole, and
endeavoured to excuse themselves by throwing the blame on Montezuma. Cortes, assuming an air of higher indignation at
this, assured them that the pretence should not serve, since, even if well founded, it would be no justification; and
he would now make such an example of them for their treachery, that the report of it should ring throughout the wide
borders of Anahuac!

The fatal signal, the discharge of an arquebuse was then given. In an instant every musket and crossbow was levelled
at the unfortunate Cholulans in the courtyard, and a frightful volley poured into them as they stood crowded together
like a herd of deer in the centre. They were taken by surprise, for they had not heard the preceding dialogue with the
chiefs. They made scarcely any resistance to the Spaniards, who followed up the discharge of their pieces by rushing on
them with their swords; and, as the half-naked bodies of the natives afforded no protection, they hewed them down with
as much ease as the reaper mows down the ripe corn in harvest time. Some endeavoured to scale the walls, but only
afforded a surer mark to the arquebusiers and archers. Others threw themselves into the gateways, but were received on
the long pikes of the soldiers who guarded them. Some few had better luck in hiding themselves under the heaps of slain
with which the ground was soon loaded.

While this work of death was going on, the countrymen of the slaughtered Indians, drawn together by the noise of the
massacre, had commenced a furious assault on the Spaniards from without. But Cortes had placed his battery of heavy
guns in a position that commanded the avenues, and swept off the files of the assailants as they rushed on. In the
intervals between the discharges, which, in the imperfect state of the science in that day, were much longer than in
ours, he forced back the press by charging with the horse into the midst. The steeds, the guns, the weapons of the
Spaniards, were all new to the Cholulans. Notwithstanding the novelty of the terrific spectacle, the flash of firearms
mingling with the deafening roar of the artillery, as its thunders reverberated among the buildings, the despairing
Indians pushed on to take the places of their fallen comrades.

While this fierce struggle was going forward, the Tlascalans, hearing the concerted signal, had advanced with quick
pace into the city. They had bound, by order of Cortes, wreaths of sedge round their heads, that they might the more
surely be distinguished from the Cholulans. Coming up in the very heat of the engagement, they fell on the defenceless
rear of the townsmen, who, trampled down under the heels of the Castilian cavalry on one side, and galled by their
vindictive enemies on the other, could no longer maintain their ground. They gave way, some taking refuge in the
nearest buildings, which, being partly of wood, were speedily set on fire. Others fled to the temples. One strong
party, with a number of priests at its head, got possession of the great teocalli. There was a vulgar tradition,
already alluded to, that, on removal of part of the walls, the god would send forth an inundation to overwhelm his
enemies. The superstitious Cholulans with great difficulty succeeded in wrenching away some of the stones in the walls
of the edifice. But dust, not water followed. Their false gods deserted them in the hour of need. In despair they flung
themselves into the wooden turrets that crowned the temple, and poured down stones, javelins, and burning arrows on the
Spaniards, as they climbed the great staircase, which, by a flight of one hundred and twenty steps, scaled the face of
the pyramid. But the fiery shower fell harmless on the steel bonnets of the Christians, while they availed themselves
of the burning shafts to set fire to the wooden citadel, which was speedily wrapt in flames. Still the garrison held
out, and though quarter, it is said, was offered, only one Cholulan availed himself of it. The rest threw themselves
headlong from the parapet, or perished miserably in the flames.

All was now confusion and uproar in the fair city which had so lately reposed in security and peace. The groans of
the dying, the frantic supplications of the vanquished for mercy, were mingled with the loud battle-cries of the
Spaniards, as they rode down their enemy, and with the shrill whistle of the Tlascalans, who gave full scope to the
long cherished rancour of ancient rivalry. The tumult was still further swelled by the incessant rattle of musketry,
and the crash of falling timbers, which sent up a volume of flame that outshone the ruddy light of morning, making
altogether a hideous confusion of sights and sounds, that converted the Holy City into a Pandemonium. As resistance
slackened, the victors broke into the houses and sacred places, plundering them of whatever valuables they contained,
plate, jewels, which were found in some quantity, wearing apparel and provisions, the two last coveted even more than
the former by the simple Tlascalans, thus facilitating a division of the spoil, much to the satisfaction of their
Christian confederates. Amidst this universal licence, it is worthy of remark, the commands of Cortes were so far
respected that no violence was offered to women or children, though these, as well as numbers of the men, were made
prisoners, to be swept into slavery by the Tlascalans. These scenes of violence had lasted some hours, when Cortes,
moved by the entreaties of some Cholulan chiefs, who had been reserved from the massacre, backed by the prayers of the
Mexican envoys, consented, out of regard, as he said, to the latter, the representatives of Montezuma, to call off the
soldiers, and put a stop, as well as he could, to further outrage. Two of the caciques were also permitted to go to
their countrymen with assurances of pardon and protection to all who would return to their obedience.

These measures had their effect. By the joint efforts of Cortes and the caciques, the tumult was with much
difficulty appeased. The assailants, Spaniards and Indians, gathered under their respective banners, and the Cholulans,
relying on the assurance of their chiefs, gradually returned to their homes.

The first act of Cortes was, to prevail on the Tlascalan chiefs to liberate their captives. Such was their deference
to the Spanish commander, that they acquiesced, though not without murmurs, contenting themselves, as they best could,
with the rich spoil rifled from the Cholulans, consisting of various luxuries long since unknown in Tlascala. His next
care was to cleanse the city from its loathsome impurities, particularly from the dead bodies which lay festering in
heaps in the streets and great square. The general, in his letter to Charles the Fifth, admits three thousand slain;
most accounts say six, and some swell the amount yet higher. As the eldest and principal cacique was among the number,
Cortes assisted the Cholulans in installing a successor in his place. By these pacific measures, confidence was
gradually restored. The people in the environs, reassured, flocked into the capital to supply the place of the
diminished population. The markets were again opened; and the usual avocations of an orderly, industrious community
were resumed. Still, the long piles of black and smouldering ruins proclaimed the hurricane which had so lately swept
over the city, and the walls surrounding the scene of slaughter in the great square, which were standing more than
fifty years after the event, told the sad tale of the Massacre of Cholula.

This passage in their history is one of those that have left a dark stain on the memory of the Conquerors. Nor can
we contemplate at this day, without a shudder, the condition of this fair and flourishing capital thus invaded in its
privacy, and delivered over to the excesses of a rude and ruthless soldiery. But, to judge the action fairly, we must
transport ourselves to the age when it happened. The difficulty that meets us in the outset is, to find a justification
of the right of conquest at all. But it should be remembered, that religious infidelity, at this period, and till a
much later, was regarded — no matter whether founded on ignorance or education, whether hereditary or acquired,
heretical or pagan — as a sin to be punished with fire and faggot in this world, and eternal suffering in the next.
Under this code, the territory of the heathen, wherever found, was regarded as a sort of religious waif, which, in
default of a legal proprietor, was claimed and taken possession of by the Holy See, and as such was freely given away,
by the head of the church, to any temporal potentate whom he pleased, that would assume the burden of conquest. Thus,
Alexander the Sixth generously granted a large portion of the Western Hemisphere to the Spaniards, and of the Eastern
to the Portuguese. These lofty pretensions of the successors of the humble fisherman of Galilee, far from being
nominal, were acknowledged and appealed to as conclusive in controversies between nations.

With the right of conquest, thus conferred, came also the obligation, on which it may be said to have been founded,
to retrieve the nations sitting in darkness from eternal perdition. This obligation was acknowledged by the best and
the bravest, the gownsman in his closet, the missionary, and the warrior in the crusade. However much it may have been
debased by temporal motives and mixed up with worldly considerations of ambition and avarice, it was still active in
the mind of the Christian conqueror. We have seen how far paramount it was to every calculation of personal interest in
the breast of Cortes. The concession of the pope then, founded on and enforcing the imperative duty of conversion, was
the assumed basis — and, in the apprehension of that age, a sound one — of the right of conquest.

The right could not, indeed, be construed to authorise any unnecessary act of violence to the natives. The present
expedition, up to the period of its history at which we are now arrived, had probably been stained with fewer of such
acts than almost any similar enterprise of the Spanish discoverers in the New World. Throughout the campaign, Cortes
had prohibited all wanton injuries to the natives, in person or property, and had punished the perpetrators of them
with exemplary severity. He had been faithful to his friends, and, with perhaps a single exception, not unmerciful to
his foes. Whether from policy or principle, it should be recorded to his credit, though, like every sagacious mind, he
may have felt that principle and policy go together.

He had entered Cholula as a friend, at the invitation of the Indian emperor, who had a real, if not avowed, control
over the state. He had been received as a friend, with every demonstration of good will; when, without any offence of
his own or his followers, he found they were to be the victims of an insidious plot — that they were standing on a mine
which might be sprung at any moment, and bury them all in its ruins. His safety, as he truly considered, left no
alternative but to anticipate the blow of his enemies. Yet who can doubt that the punishment thus inflicted was
excessive — that the same end might have been attained by directing the blow against the guilty chiefs, instead of
letting it fall on the ignorant rabble, who but obeyed the commands of their masters? But when was it ever seen, that
fear, armed with power, was scrupulous in the exercise of it? or that the passions of a fierce soldiery, inflamed by
conscious injuries, could be regulated in the moment of explosion?

But whatever be thought of this transaction in a moral view, as a stroke of policy it was unquestionable. The
nations of Anahuac had beheld, with admiration mingled with awe, the little band of Christian warriors steadily
advancing along the plateau in face of every obstacle, overturning army after army with as much ease, apparently, as
the good ship throws off the angry billows from her bows; or rather like the lava, which rolling from their own
volcanoes, holds on its course unchecked by obstacles, rock, tree, or building, bearing them along, or crushing and
consuming them in its fiery path. The prowess of the Spaniards —“the white gods,” as they were often called — made them
to be thought invincible. But it was not till their arrival at Cholula that the natives learned how terrible was their
vengeance — and they trembled!

None trembled more than the Aztec emperor on his throne among the mountains. He read in these events the dark
character traced by the finger of Destiny. He felt his empire melting away like a morning mist. He might well feel so.
Some of the most important cities in the neighbourhood of Cholula, intimidated by the fate of that capital, now sent
their envoys to the Castilian camp, tendering their allegiance, and propitiating the favour of the strangers by rich
presents of gold and slaves. Montezuma, alarmed at these signs of defection, took counsel again of his impotent
deities; but, although the altars smoked with fresh hecatombs of human victims, he obtained no cheering response. He
determined, therefore, to send another embassy to the Spaniards, disavowing any participation in the conspiracy of
Cholula.

Meanwhile Cortes was passing his time in that capital. He thought that the impression produced by the late scenes,
and by the present restoration of tranquillity, offered a fair opportunity for the good work of conversion. He
accordingly urged the citizens to embrace the Cross, and abandon the false guardians who had abandoned them in their
extremity. But the traditions of centuries rested on the Holy City, shedding a halo of glory around it as “the
sanctuary of the gods,” the religious capital of Anahuac. It was too much to expect that the people would willingly
resign this preeminence, and descend to the level of an ordinary community. Still Cortes might have pressed the matter,
however unpalatable, but for the renewed interposition of the wise Olmedo, who persuaded him to postpone it till after
the reduction of the whole country.

During the occurrence of these events, envoys arrived from Mexico. They were charged, as usual, with a rich present
of plate and ornaments of gold; among others, artificial birds in imitation of turkeys, with plumes of the same
precious metal. To these were added fifteen hundred cotton dresses of delicate fabric. The emperor even expressed his
regret at the catastrophe of Cholula, vindicated himself from any share in the conspiracy, which, he said, had brought
deserved retribution on the heads of its authors, and explained the existence of an Aztec force in the neighbourhood,
by the necessity of repressing some disorders there.

One cannot contemplate this pusillanimous conduct of Montezuma without mingled feelings of pity and contempt. It is
not easy to reconcile his assumed innocence of the plot with many circumstances connected with it. But it must be
remembered here and always, that his history is to be collected solely from Spanish writers, and such of the natives as
flourished after the Conquest, when the country had become a colony of Spain. It is the hard fate of this unfortunate
monarch, to be wholly indebted for his portraiture to the pencil of his enemies.

More than a fortnight had elapsed since the entrance of the Spaniards into Cholula, and Cortes now resolved, without
loss of time, to resume his march towards the capital. His rigorous reprisals had so far intimidated the Cholulans,
that he felt assured he should no longer leave an active enemy in his rear, to annoy him in case of retreat. He had the
satisfaction, before his departure, to heal the feud — in outward appearance, at least — that had so long subsisted
between the Holy City and Tlascala, and which, under the revolution which so soon changed the destinies of the country,
never revived.

It was with some disquietude that he now received an application from his Cempoallan allies to be allowed to
withdraw from the expedition, and return to their own homes. They had incurred too deeply the — resentment of the Aztec
emperor, by their insults to his collectors, and by their co-operation with the Spaniards, to care to trust themselves
in his capital. It was in vain Cortes endeavoured to re-assure them by promises of his protection. Their habitual
distrust and dread of “the great Montezuma” were not to be overcome. The general learned their determination with
regret, for they had been of infinite service to the cause by their staunch fidelity and courage. All this made it the
more difficult for him to resist their reasonable demand. Liberally recompensing their services, therefore, from the
rich wardrobe and treasures of the emperor, he took leave of his faithful followers, before his own departure from
Cholula. He availed himself of their return to send letters to Juan de Escalante, his lieutenant at Vera Cruz,
acquainting him with the successful progress of the expedition. He enjoined on that officer to strengthen the
fortifications of the place, so as the better to resist any hostile interference from Cuba — an event for which Cortes
was ever on the watch — and to keep down revolt among the natives. He especially commended the Totonacs to his
protection, as allies whose fidelity to the Spaniards exposed them, in no slight degree, to the vengeance of the
Aztecs.

Chapter VIII 1519

MARCH RESUMED— VALLEY OF MEXICO— IMPRESSION ON THE SPANIARDS— CONDUCT OF MONTEZUMA— THEY DESCEND INTO
THE VALLEY

EVERYTHING being now restored to quiet in Cholula, the allied army of Spaniards and Tlascalans set forward in high
spirits, and resumed the march on Mexico. The road lay through the beautiful savannas and luxuriant plantations that
spread out for several leagues in every direction. On the march they were met occasionally by embassies from the
neighbouring places, anxious to claim the protection of the white men, and to propitiate them by gifts, especially of
gold, for which their appetite was generally known throughout the country.

Some of these places were allies of the Tlascalans, and all showed much discontent with the oppressive rule of
Montezuma. The natives cautioned the Spaniards against putting themselves in his power by entering his capital; and
they stated, as evidence of his hostile disposition, that he had caused the direct road to it to be blocked up, that
the strangers might be compelled to choose another, which, from its narrow passes and strong positions, would enable
him to take them at great disadvantage.

The information was not lost on Cortes, who kept a strict eye on the movements of the Mexican envoys, and redoubled
his own precautions against surprise. Cheerful and active, he was ever where his presence was needed, sometimes in the
van, at others in the rear, encouraging the weak, stimulating the sluggish, and striving to kindle in the breasts of
others the same courageous spirit which glowed in his own. At night he never omitted to go the rounds, to see that
every man was at his post. On one occasion his vigilance had well nigh proved fatal to him. He approached so near a
sentinel that the man, unable to distinguish his person in the dark, levelled his crossbow at him, when, fortunately,
an exclamation of the general, who gave the watchword of the night, arrested a movement which might else have brought
the campaign to a close, and given a respite for some time longer to the empire of Montezuma.

The army came at length to the place mentioned by the friendly Indians, where the road forked, and one arm of it was
found, as they had foretold, obstructed with large trunks of trees and huge stones which had been strewn across it.
Cortes inquired the meaning of this from the Mexican ambassadors. They said it was done by the emperor’s orders, to
prevent their taking a route which, after some distance, they would find nearly impracticable for the cavalry. They
acknowledged, however, that it was the most direct road; and Cortes, declaring that this was enough to decide him in
favour of it, as the Spaniards made no account of obstacles, commanded the rubbish to be cleared away. The event left
little doubt in the general’s mind of the meditated treachery of the Mexicans. But he was too politic to betray his
suspicions.

They were now leaving the pleasant champaign country, as the road wound up the bold sierra which separates the great
plateaus of Mexico and Puebla. The air, as they ascended, became keen and piercing; and the blasts, sweeping down the
frozen sides of the mountains, made the soldiers shiver in their thick harness of cotton, and benumbed the limbs of
both men and horses.

They were passing between two of the highest mountains on the North American continent, Popocatepetl, “the hill that
smokes,” and Iztaccihuatl, or “white woman,”— a name suggested, doubtless, by the bright robe of snow spread over its
broad and broken surface. A puerile superstition of the Indians regarded these celebrated mountains as gods, and
Iztaccihuatl as the wife of her more formidable neighbour. A tradition of a higher character described the northern
volcano as the abode of the departed spirits of wicked rulers, whose fiery agonies in their prison-house caused the
fearful bellowings and convulsions in times of eruption.

The army held on its march through the intricate gorges of the sierra. The route was nearly the same as that pursued
at the present day by the courier from the capital to Puebla, by the way of Mecameca. It was not that usually taken by
travellers from Vera Cruz, who follow the more circuitous road round the northern base of Iztaccihuatl, as less
fatiguing than the other, though inferior in picturesque scenery and romantic points of view. The icy winds, that now
swept down the sides of the mountains, brought with them a tempest of arrowy sleet and snow, from which the Christians
suffered even more than the Tlascalans, reared from infancy among the wild solitudes of their own native hills. As
night came on, their sufferings would have been intolerable, but they luckily found a shelter in the commodious stone
buildings which the Mexican government had placed at stated intervals along the roads for the accommodation of the
traveller and their own couriers.

The troops, refreshed by a night’s rest, succeeded, early on the following day, in gaining the crest of the sierra
of Ahualco, which stretches like a curtain between the two great mountains on the north and south. Their progress was
now comparatively easy, and they marched forward with a buoyant step, as they felt they were treading the soil of
Montezuma.

They had not advanced far, when, turning an angle of the sierra, they suddenly came on a view which more than
compensated the toils of the preceding day. It was that of the Valley of Mexico, or Tenochtitlan, as more commonly
called by the natives; which, with its picturesque assemblage of water, woodland, and cultivated plains, its shining
cities and shadowy hills, was spread out like some gay and gorgeous panorama before them. In the highly rarefied
atmosphere of these upper regions, even remote objects have a brilliancy of colouring and distinctness of outline which
seem to annihilate distance. Stretching far away at their feet were seen noble forests of oak, sycamore, and cedar, and
beyond, yellow fields of maize and the towering maguey, intermingled with orchards and blooming gardens; for flowers,
in such demand for their religious festivals, were even more abundant in this populous valley than in other parts of
Anahuac. In the centre of the great basin were beheld the lakes, occupying then a much larger portion of its surface
than at present; their borders thickly studded with towns and hamlets, and, in the midst — like some Indian empress
with her coronal of pearls — the fair city of Mexico, with her white towers and pyramidal temples, reposing, as it
were, on the bosom of the waters — the far-famed “Venice of the Aztecs.” High over all rose the royal hill of
Chapoltepec, the residence of the Mexican monarchs, crowned with the same grove of gigantic cypresses which at this day
fling their broad shadows over the land. In the distance beyond the blue waters of the lake, and nearly screened by
intervening foliage, was seen a shining speck, the rival capital of Tezcuco, and, still further on, the dark belt of
porphyry, girding the Valley around, like a rich setting which Nature had devised for the fairest of her jewels.

Such was the beautiful vision which broke on the eyes of the Conquerors. And even now, when so sad a change has come
over the scene; when the stately forests have been laid low, and the soil, unsheltered from the fierce radiance of a
tropical sun, is in many places abandoned to sterility; when the waters have retired, leaving a broad and ghastly
margin white with the incrustation of salts, while the cities and hamlets on their borders have mouldered into ruins; —
even now that desolation broods over the landscape, so indestructible are the lines of beauty which Nature has traced
on its features, that no traveller, however cold, can gaze on them with any other emotions than those of astonishment
and rapture.

What, then, must have been the emotions of the Spaniards, when, after working their toilsome way into the upper air,
the cloudy tabernacle parted before their eyes, and they beheld these fair seenes in all their pristine magnificence
and beauty! It was like the spectacle which greeted the eyes of Moses from the summit of Pisgah, and, in the warm glow
of their feelings, they cried out, “It is the promised land!”

But these feelings of admiration were soon followed by others of a very different complexion; as they saw in all
this the evidences of a civilisation and power far superior to anything they had yet encountered. The more timid,
disheartened by the prospect, shrunk from a contest so unequal, and demanded, as they had done on some former
occasions, to be led back again to Vera Cruz. Such was not the effect produced on the sanguine spirit of the general.
His avarice was sharpened by the display of the dazzling spoil at his feet; and, if he felt a natural anxiety at the
formidable odds, his confidence was renewed, as he gazed on the lines of his veterans, whose weather-beaten visages and
battered armour told of battles won and difficulties surmounted, while his bold barbarians, with appetites whetted by
the view of their enemy’s country, seemed like eagles on the mountains, ready to pounce upon their prey. By argument,
entreaty, and menace, he endeavoured to restore the faltering courage of the soldiers, urging them not to think of
retreat, now that they had reached the goal for which they had panted, and the golden gates were open to receive them.
In these efforts he was well seconded by the brave cavaliers, who held honour as dear to them as fortune; until the
dullest spirits caught somewhat of the enthusiasm of their leaders, and the general had the satisfaction to see his
hesitating columns, with their usual buoyant step, once more on their march down the slopes of the sierra.

With every step of their progress, the woods became thinner; patches of cultivated land more frequent; and hamlets
were seen in the green and sheltered nooks, the inhabitants of which, coming out to meet them, gave the troops a kind
reception. Everywhere they heard complaints of Montezuma, especially of the unfeeling manner in which he carried off
their young men to recruit his armies, and their maidens for his harem. These symptoms of discontent were noticed with
satisfaction by Cortes, who saw that Montezuma’s “Mountain throne,” as it was called, was indeed seated on a volcano,
with the elements of combustion so active within, that it seemed as if any hour might witness an explosion. He
encouraged the disaffected natives to rely on his protection, as he had come to redress their wrongs. He took
advantage, moreover, of their favourable dispositions to scatter among them such gleams of spiritual light as time and
the preaching of Father Olmedo could afford.

He advanced by easy stages, somewhat retarded by the crowd of curious inhabitants gathered on the highways to see
the strangers, and halting at every spot of interest or importance. On the road he was met by another embassy from the
capital. It consisted of several Aztec lords, freighted, as usual, with a rich largess of gold, and robes of delicate
furs and feathers. The message of the emperor was couched in the same deprecatory terms as before. He even condescended
to bribe the return of the Spaniards, by promising, in that event, four loads of gold to the general, and one to each
of the captains, with a yearly tribute to their sovereign. So effectually had the lofty and naturally courageous spirit
of the barbarian monarch been subdued by the influence of superstition!

But the man whom the hostile array of armies could not daunt, was not to be turned from his purpose by a woman’s
prayers. He received the embassy with his usual courtesy, declaring, as before, that he could not answer it to his own
sovereign, if he were now to return without visiting the emperor in his capital. It would be much easier to arrange
matters by a personal interview than by distant. negotiation. The Spaniards came in the spirit of peace. Montezuma
would so find it, but, should their presence prove burdensome to him, it would be easy for them to relieve him of
it.

The Aztec monarch, meanwhile, was a prey to the most dismal apprehensions. It was intended that the embassy above
noticed should reach the Spaniards before they crossed the mountains. When he learned that this was accomplished, and
that the dread strangers were on their march across the valley, the very threshold of his capital, the last spark of
hope died away in his bosom. Like one who suddenly finds himself on the brink of some dark and yawning gulf, he was too
much bewildered to be able to rally his thoughts, or even to comprehend his situation. He was the victim of an absolute
destiny, against which no foresight or precautions could have availed. It was as if the strange beings, who had thus
invaded his shores, had dropped from some distant planet, so different were they from all he had ever seen, in
appearance and manners; so superior — though a mere handful in numbers — to the banded nations of Anahuac in strength
and science, and all the fearful accompaniments of war! They were now in the valley. The huge mountain-screen, which
nature had so kindly drawn around it for its defence, had been overleaped. The golden visions of security and repose,
in which he had so long indulged, the lordly sway descended from his ancestors, his broad imperial domain, were all to
pass away. It seemed like some terrible dream — from which he was now, alas! to awake to a still more terrible
reality.

In a paroxysm of despair he shut himself up in his palace, refused food, and sought relief in prayer and in
sacrifice. But the oracles were dumb. He then adopted the more sensible expedient of calling a council of his principal
and oldest nobles. Here was the same division of opinion which had before prevailed. Cacama, the young king of Tezcuco,
his nephew, counselled him to receive the Spaniards courteously, as ambassadors, so styled by themselves, of a foreign
prince. Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s more warlike brother, urged him to muster his forces on the instant, and drive back the
invaders from his capital, or die in its defence. But the monarch found it difficult to rally his spirits for this
final struggle. With downcast eye and dejected mien he exclaimed, “Of what avail is resistance when the gods have
declared themselves against us! Yet I mourn most for the old and infirm, the women and children, too feeble to fight or
to fly. For myself and the brave men around me, we must bare our breasts to the storm, and meet it as we may!” Such are
the sorrowful and sympathetic tones in which the Aztec emperor is said to have uttered the bitterness of his grief. He
would have acted a more glorious part had he put his capital in a posture of defence, and prepared, like the last of
the Palaeologi, to bury himself under its ruins.

He straightway prepared to send a last embassy to the Spaniards, with his nephew, the lord of Tezcuco, at its head,
to welcome them to Mexico.

The Christian army, meanwhile, had advanced as far as Amaquemecan, a well-built town of several thousand
inhabitants. They were kindly received by the cacique, lodged in large commodious stone buildings, and at their
departure presented, among other things, with gold to the amount of three thousand castellanos. Having halted there a
couple of days, they descended among flourishing plantations of maize and of maguey, the latter of which might be
called the Aztec vineyards, towards the lake of Chalco. Their first resting-place was Ajotzinco, a town of considerable
size, with a great part of it then standing on piles in the water. It was the first specimen which the Spaniards had
seen of this maritime architecture. The canals, which intersected the city instead of streets, presented an animated
scene from the number of barks which glided up and down, freighted with provisions and other articles for the
inhabitants. The Spaniards were particularly struck with the style and commodious structure of the houses, built
chiefly of stone, and with the general aspect of wealth, and even elegance which prevailed there.

Though received with the greatest show of hospitality, Cortes found some occasion for distrust in the eagerness
manifested by the people to see and approach the Spaniards. Not content with gazing at them in the roads, some even
made their way stealthily into their quarters, and fifteen or twenty unhappy Indians were shot down by the sentinels as
spies. Yet there appears, as well as we can judge at this distance of time, to have been no real ground for such
suspicion. The undisguised jealousy of the court, and the cautions he had received from his allies, while they very
properly put the general on his guard, seem to have given an unnatural acuteness, at least in the present instance, to
his perceptions of danger.

Early on the following morning, as the army was preparing to leave the place, a courier came, requesting the general
to postpone his departure till after the arrival of the king of Tezcuco, who was advancing to meet him. It was not long
before he appeared, borne in a palanquin or litter, richly decorated with plates of gold and precious stones, having
pillars curiously wrought, supporting a canopy of green plumes, a favourite colour with the Aztec princes. He was
accompanied by a numerous suite of nobles and inferior attendants. As he came into the presence of Cortes, the lord of
Tezcuco descended from his palanquin, and the obsequious officers swept the ground before him as he advanced. He
appeared to be a young man of about twenty-five years of age, with a comely presence, erect and stately in his
deportment. He made the Mexican salutation usually addressed to persons of high rank, touching the earth with his right
hand, and raising it to his head. Cortes embraced him as he rose, when the young prince informed him that he came as
the representative of Montezuma, to bid the Spaniards welcome to his capital. He then presented the general with three
pearls of uncommon size and lustre. Cortes, in return, threw over Cacama’s neck a chain of cut glass, which, where
glass was a rare as diamonds, might be admitted to have a value as real as the latter. After this interchange of
courtesies, and the most friendly and respectful assurances on the part of Cortes, the Indian prince withdrew, leaving
the Spaniards strongly impressed with the superiority of his state and bearing over anything they had hitherto seen in
the country.

Resuming its march, the army kept along the southern borders of the lake of Chalco, overshadowed at that time by
noble woods, and by orchards glowing with autumnal fruits, of unknown names, but rich and tempting hues. More
frequently it passed through cultivated fields waving with the yellow harvest, and irrigated by canals introduced from
the neighbouring lake; the whole showing a careful and economical husbandry, essential to the maintenance of a crowded
population.

Leaving the main land, the Spaniards came on the great dike or causeway, which stretches some four or five miles in
length, and divides lake Chalco from Xochimilco on the west. It was a lance in breadth in the narrowest part, and in
some places wide enough for eight horsemen to ride abreast. It was a solid structure of stone and lime, running
directly through the lake, and struck the Spaniards as one of the most remarkable works which they had seen in the
country.

As they passed along, they beheld the gay spectacle of multitudes of Indians darting up and down in their light
pirogues, eager to catch a glimpse of the strangers, or bearing the products of the country to the neighbouring cities.
They were amazed, also, by the sight of the chinampas, or floating gardens — those wandering islands of verdure, to
which we shall have occasion to return hereafter — teeming with flowers and vegetables, and moving like rafts over the
waters. All round the margin, and occasionally far in the lake, they beheld little towns and villages, which, half
concealed by the foliage, and gathered in white clusters round the shore, looked in the distance like companies of wild
swans riding quietly on the waves. A scene so new and wonderful filled their rude hearts with amazement. It seemed like
enchantment; and they could find nothing to compare it with, but the magical pictures in the Amadis de Gaula. Few
pictures, indeed, in that or any other legend of chivalry, could surpass the realities of their own experience. The
life of the adventurer in the New World was romance put into action. What wonder, then, if the Spaniard of that day,
feeding his imagination with dreams of enchantment at home, and with its realities abroad, should have displayed a
Quixotic enthusiasm — a romantic exaltation of character, not to be comprehended by the colder spirits of other
lands!

Midway across the lake the army halted at the town of Cuitlahuac, a place of moderate size, but distinguished by the
beauty of the buildings — the most beautiful, according to Cortes, that he had yet seen in the country. After taking
some refreshment at this place, they continued their march along the dike. Though broader in this northern section, the
troops found themselves much embarrassed by the throng of Indians, who, not content with gazing on them from the boats,
climbed up the causeway, and lined the sides of the roads. The general, afraid that his ranks might be disordered, and
that too great familiarity might diminish a salutary awe in the natives, was obliged to resort not merely to command
but menace, to clear a passage. He now found, as he advanced, a considerable change in the feelings shown towards the
government. He heard only of the pomp and magnificence, nothing of the oppressions of Montezuma. Contrary to the usual
fact, it seemed that the respect for the court was greatest in its immediate neighbourhood.

From the causeway, the army descended on that narrow point of land which divides the waters of the Chalco from the
Tezcucan lake, but which in those days was overflowed for many a mile, now laid bare. Traversing this peninsula, they
entered the royal residence of Iztapalapan, a place containing twelve or fifteen thousand houses, according to Cortes.
It was governed by Cuitlahua, the emperor’s brother, who, to do greater honour to the general, had invited the lords of
some neighbouring cities, of the royal house of Mexico, like himself, to be present at the interview. This was
conducted with much ceremony, and, after the usual presents of gold and delicate stuffs, a collation was served to the
Spaniards in one of the great halls of the palace. The excellence of the architecture here, also, excited the
admiration of the general, who does not hesitate, in the glow of his enthusiasm, to pronounce some of the buildings
equal to the best in Spain. They were of stone, and the spacious apartments had roofs of odorous cedar-wood, while the
walls were tapestried with fine cottons stained with brilliant colours.

But the pride of Iztapalapan, on which its lord had freely lavished his care and his revenues, was its celebrated
gardens. They covered an immense tract of land; were laid out in regular squares, and the paths intersecting them were
bordered with trellises, supporting creepers and aromatic shrubs, that loaded the air with their perfumes. The gardens
were stocked with fruit-trees, imported from distant places, and with the gaudy family of flowers which belong to the
Mexican Flora, scientifically arranged, and growing luxuriant in the equable temperature of the tableland. The natural
dryness of the atmosphere was counteracted by means of aqueducts and canals, that carried water into all parts of the
grounds.

In one quarter was an aviary, filled with numerous kinds of birds, remarkable in this region both for brilliancy of
plumage and of song. The gardens were intersected by a canal communicating with the lake of Tezcuco, and of sufficient
size for barges to enter from the latter. But the most elaborate piece of work was a huge reservoir of stone, filled to
a considerable height with water, well supplied with different sorts of fish. This basin was sixteen hundred paces in
circumference, and was surrounded by a walk, made also of stone, wide enough for four persons to go abreast. The sides
were curiously sculptured, and a flight of steps led to the water below, which fed the aqueducts above noticed, or,
collected into fountains, diffused a perpetual moisture.

Such are the accounts transmitted of these celebrated gardens, at a period when similar horticultural establishments
were unknown in Europe; and we might well doubt their existence in this semi-civilised land, were it not a matter of
such notoriety at the time, and so explicitly attested by the invaders. But a generation had scarcely passed after the
Conquest before a sad change came over these scenes so beautiful. The town itself was deserted, and the shore of the
lake was strewed with the wreck of buildings which once were its ornament and its glory. The gardens shared the fate of
the city. The retreating waters withdrew the means of nourishment, converting the flourishing plains into a foul and
unsightly morass, the haunt of loathsome reptiles; and the water-fowl built her nest in what had once been the palaces
of princes!

In the city of Iztapalapan, Cortes took up his quarters for the night. We may imagine what a crowd of ideas must
have pressed on the mind of the Conqueror, as, surrounded by these evidences of civilisation, he prepared, with his
handful of followers, to enter the capital of a monarch, who, as he had abundant reason to know, regarded him with
distrust and aversion. This capital was now but a few miles distant, distinctly visible from Iztapalapan. And as its
long lines of glittering edifices, struck by the rays of the evening sun, trembled on the dark blue waters of the lake,
it looked like a thing of fairy creation, rather than the work of mortal hands. Into this city of enchantment Cortes
prepared to make his entry on the following morning.

Chapter IX 1519

ENVIRONS OF MEXICO— INTERVIEW WITH MONTEZUMA— ENTRANCE INTO THE CAPITAL— HOSPITABLE RECEPTION— VISIT
TO THE EMPEROR

WITH the first faint streak of dawn, the Spanish general was up, mustering his followers. They gathered, with
beating hearts, under their respective banners as the trumpet sent forth its spirit-stirring sounds across water and
woodland, till they died away in distant echoes among the mountains. The sacred flames on the altars of numberless
teocallis, dimly seen through the grey mists of morning, indicated the site of the capital, till temple, tower, and
palace were fully revealed in the glorious illumination which the sun, as he rose above the eastern barrier, poured
over the beautiful valley. It was the 8th of November; a conspicuous day in history, as that on which the Europeans
first set foot in the capital of the Western World.

Cortes, with his little body of horse formed a sort of advanced guard to the army. Then came the Spanish infantry,
who in a summer campaign had acquired the discipline and the weather-beaten aspect of veterans. The baggage occupied
the centre; and the rear was closed by the dark files of Tlascalan warriors. The whole number must have fallen short of
seven thousand; of which less than four hundred were Spaniards.

For a short distance, the army kept along the narrow tongue of land that divides the Tezcucan from the Chalcan
waters, when it entered the great dike which, with the exception of an angle near the commencement, stretches in a
perfectly straight line across the salt floods of Tezcuco to the gates of the capital. It was the same causeway, or
rather the basis of that which still forms the great southern avenue of Mexico. The Spaniards had occasion more than
ever to admire the mechanical science of the Aztecs, in the geometrical precision with which the work was executed, as
well as the solidity of its construction. It was composed of huge stones well laid in cement; and wide enough,
throughout its whole extent, for ten horsemen to ride abreast.

They saw, as they passed along, several large towns, resting on piles, and reaching far into the water — a kind of
architecture which found great favour with the Aztecs, being in imitation of that of their metropolis. The busy
population obtained a good subsistence from the manufacture of salt, which they extracted from the waters of the great
lake. The duties on the traffic were a considerable source of revenue to the crown.

Everywhere the Conquerors beheld the evidence of a. crowded and thriving population, exceeding all they had yet
seen. The temples and principal buildings of the cities were covered with a hard white stucco, which glistened like
enamel in the level beams of the morning. The margin of the great basin was more thickly gemmed, than that of Chalco,
with towns and hamlets. The water was darkened by swarms of canoes filled with Indians, who clambered up the sides of
the causeway, and gazed with curious astonishment on the strangers. And here, also, they beheld those fairy islands of
flowers, overshadowed occasionally by trees of considerable size, rising and falling with the gentle undulation of the
billows. At the distance of half a league from the capital, they encountered a solid work, or curtain of stone, which
traversed the dike. It was twelve feet high, was strengthened by towers at the extremities, and in the centre was a
battlemented gateway, which opened a passage to the troops. It was called the Fort of Xoloc, and became memorable in
after times as the position occupied by Cortes in the famous siege of Mexico.

Here they were met by several hundred Aztec chiefs, who came out to announce the approach of Montezuma, and to
welcome the Spaniards to his capital. They were dressed in the fanciful gala costume of the country, with the Maxtlatl,
or cotton sash, around their loins, and a broad mantle of the same material, or of the brilliant feather-embroidery,
flowing gracefully down their shoulders. On their necks and arms they displayed collars and bracelets of turquoise
mosaic, with which delicate plumage was curiously mingled, while their ears, under-lips, and occasionally their noses,
were garnished with pendants formed of precious stones, or crescents of fine gold As each cacique made the usual formal
salutation of the country separately to the general, the tedious ceremony delayed the march more than an hour. After
this, the army experienced no further interruption till it reached a bridge near the gates of the city. It was built of
wood, since replaced by one of stone, and was thrown across an opening of the dike, which furnished an outlet to the
waters, when agitated by the winds, or swollen by a sudden influx in the rainy season. It was a drawbridge; and the
Spaniards, as they crossed it, felt how truly they were committing themselves to the mercy of Montezuma, who, by thus
cutting off their communications with the country, might hold them prisoners in his capital.

In the midst of these unpleasant reflections, they beheld the glittering retinue of the emperor emerging from the
great street which led through the heart of the city. Amidst a crowd of Indian nobles, preceded by three officers of
state, bearing golden wands, they saw the royal palanquin blazing with burnished gold. It was borne on the shoulders of
nobles, and over it a canopy of gaudy feather-work, powdered with jewels, and fringed with silver, was supported by
four attendants of the same rank. They were bare-footed, and walked with a slow, measured pace, and with eyes bent on
the ground. When the train had come within a convenient distance, it halted, and Montezuma, descending from his litter,
came forward leaning on the arms of the lords of Tezcuco and Iztapalapan, his nephew and brother, both of whom, as we
have seen, had already been made known to the Spaniards. As the monarch advanced under the canopy, the obsequious
attendants strewed the ground with cotton tapestry, that his imperial feet might not be contaminated by the rude soil.
His subjects of high and low degree, who lined the sides of the causeway, bent forward with their eyes fastened on the
ground as he passed, and some of the humbler class prostrated themselves before him. Such was the homage paid to the
Indian despot, showing that the slavish forms of oriental adulation were to be found among the rude inhabitants of the
Western World.

Montezuma wore the girdle and ample square cloak, tilmatli, of his nation. It was made of the finest cotton, with
the embroidered ends gathered in a knot round his neck. His feet were defended by sandals having soles of gold, and the
leathern thongs which bound them to his ankles were embossed with the same metal. Both the cloak and sandals were
sprinkled with pearls and precious stones, among which the emerald and the chalchiuitl — a green stone of higher
estimation than any other among the Aztecs — were conspicuous. On his head he wore no other ornament than a panache of
plumes of the royal green, which floated down his back, the badge of military rather than of regal rank.

He was at this time about forty years of age. His person was tall and thin, but not ill made. His hair, which was
black and straight, was not very long; to wear it short was considered unbecoming persons of rank. His beard was thin;
his complexion somewhat paler than is often found in his dusky, or rather copper-coloured race. His features, though
serious in their expression, did not wear the look of melancholy, indeed, of dejection, which characterises his
portrait, and which may well have settled on them at a later period. He moved with dignity, and his whole demeanour,
tempered by an expression of benignity not to have been anticipated from the reports circulated of his character, was
worthy of a great prince. Such is the portrait left to us of the celebrated Indian emperor, in this first interview
with the white men.

The army halted as he drew near. Cortes, dismounting, threw his reins to a page, and, supported by a few of the
principal cavaliers, advanced to meet him. The interview must have been one of uncommon interest to both. In Montezuma
Cortes beheld the lord of the broad realms he had traversed, whose magnificence and power had been the burden of every
tongue. In the Spaniard, on the other hand, the Aztec prince saw the strange being whose history seemed to be so
mysteriously connected with his own; the predicted one of his oracles; whose achievements proclaimed him something more
than human. But, whatever may have been the monarch’s feelings, he so far suppressed them as to receive his guest with
princely courtesy, and to express his satisfaction at personally seeing him in his capital. Cortes responded by the
most profound expressions of respect, while he made ample acknowledgments for the substantial proofs which the emperor
had given the Spaniards of his munificence. He then hung round Montezuma’s neck a sparkling chain of coloured crystal,
accompanying this with a movement as if to embrace him, when he was restrained by the two Aztec lords, shocked at the
menaced profanation of the sacred person of their master. After the interchange of these civilities, Montezuma
appointed his brother to conduct the Spaniards to their residence in the capital, and again entering his litter, was
borne off amidst prostrate crowds in the same state in which he had come. The Spaniards quickly followed, and with
colours flying and music playing, soon made their entrance into the southern quarter of Tenochtitlan.

Here, again, they found fresh cause for admiration in the grandeur of the city, and the superior style of its
architecture. The dwellings of the poorer class were, indeed, chiefly of reeds and mud. But the great avenue through
which they were now marching was lined with the houses of the nobles, who were encouraged by the emperor to make the
capital their residence. They were built of a red porous stone drawn from quarries in the neighbourhood, and, though
they rarely rose to a second story, often covered a large space of ground. The flat roofs, azoteas, were protected by
stone parapets, so that every house was a fortress. Sometimes these roofs resembled parterres of flowers, so thickly
were they covered with them, but more frequently these were cultivated in broad terraced gardens, laid out between the
edifices. Occasionally a great square or market-place intervened, surrounded by its porticoes of stone and stucco; or a
pyramidal temple reared its colossal bulk, crowned with its tapering sanctuaries, and altars blazing with
inextinguishable fires. The great street facing the southern causeway, unlike most others in the place, was wide, and
extended some miles in nearly a straight line, as before noticed, through the centre of the city. A spectator standing
at one end of it, as his eye ranged along the deep vista of temples, terraces, and gardens, might clearly discern the
other, with the blue mountains in the distance, which, in the transparent atmosphere of the tableland, seemed almost in
contact with the buildings.

But what most impressed the Spaniards was the throngs of people who swarmed through the streets and on the canals,
filling every doorway and window, and clustering on the roofs of the buildings. “I well remember the spectacle,”
exclaims Bernal Diaz; “it seems now, after so many years, as present to my mind as if it were but yesterday.” But what
must have been the sensations of the Aztecs themselves, as they looked on the portentous pageant! as they heard, now
for the first time, the well-cemented pavement ring under the iron tramp of the horses — the strange animals which fear
had clothed in such supernatural terrors; as they gazed on the children of the East, revealing their celestial origin
in their fair complexions; saw the bright falchions and bonnets of steel, a metal to them unknown, glancing like
meteors in the sun, while sounds of unearthly music — at least, such as their rude instruments had never wakened —
floated in the air! But every other emotion was lost in that of deadly hatred, when they beheld their detested enemy,
the Tlascalan, stalking in defiance as it were through their streets, and staring around with looks of ferocity and
wonder, like some wild animal of the forest, who had strayed by chance from his native fastnesses into the haunts of
civilisation.

As they passed down the spacious street, the troops repeatedly traversed bridges suspended above canals, along which
they saw the Indian barks gliding swiftly with their little cargoes of fruits and vegetables for the markets of
Tenochtitlan. At length, they halted before a broad area near the centre of the city, where rose the huge pyramidal
pile dedicated to the patron war-god of the Aztecs, second only in size, as well as sanctity, to the temple of Cholula,
and covering the same ground now in part occupied by the great cathedral of Mexico.

Facing the western gate of the inclosure of the temple stood a low range of stone buildings, spreading over a wide
extent of ground, the palace of Axayacatl, Montezuma’s father, built by that monarch about fifty years before. It was
appropriated as the barracks of the Spaniards. The emperor himself was in the courtyard, waiting to receive them.
Approaching Cortes, he took from a vase of flowers, borne by one of his slaves, a massy collar, in which the shell of a
species of craw-fish, much prized by the Indians, was set in gold, and connected by heavy links of the same metal. From
this chain depended eight ornaments, also of gold, made in resemblance of the same shellfish, a span in length each,
and of delicate workmanship; for the Aztec goldsmiths were confessed to have shown skill in their craft, not inferior
to their brethren of Europe. Montezuma, as he hung the gorgeous collar round the general’s neck, said, “This palace
belongs to you, Malinche” (the epithet by which he always addressed him), “and your brethren. Rest after your fatigues,
for you have much need to do so, and in a little while I will visit you again.” So saying, he withdrew with his
attendants, evincing, in this act, a delicate consideration not to have been expected in a barbarian.

Cortes’ first care was to inspect his new quarters. The building, though spacious, was low, consisting of one floor,
except indeed in the centre, where it rose to an additional story. The apartments were of great size, and afforded
accommodations, according to the testimony of the Conquerors themselves, for the whole army! The hardy mountaineers of
Tlascala were, probably, not very fastidious, and might easily find a shelter in the out-buildings, or under temporary
awnings in the ample courtyards. The best apartments were hung with gay cotton draperies, the floors covered with mats
or rushes. There were, also, low stools made of single pieces of wood elaborately carved, and in most of the apartments
beds made of the palm-leaf, woven into a thick mat, with coverlets, and sometimes canopies of cotton. These mats were
the only beds used by the natives, whether of high or low degree.

After a rapid survey of this gigantic pile, the general assigned to his troops their respective quarters, and took
as vigilant precautions for security, as if he had anticipated a siege, instead of a friendly entertainment. The place
was encompassed by a stone wall of considerable thickness, with towers or heavy buttresses at intervals, affording a
good means of defence. He planted his cannon so as to command the approaches, stationed his sentinels along the works,
and, in short, enforced in every respect as strict military discipline as had been observed in any part of the march.
He well knew the importance to his little band, at least for the present, of conciliating the good will of the
citizens; and to avoid all possibility of collision he prohibited any soldier from leaving his quarters without orders,
under pain of death. Having taken these precautions, he allowed his men to partake of the bountiful collation which had
been prepared for them.

They had been long enough in the country to become reconciled to, if not to relish, the peculiar cooking of the
Aztecs. The appetite of the soldier is not often dainty, and on the present occasion it cannot be doubted that the
Spaniards did full justice to the savoury productions of the royal kitchen. During the meal they were served by
numerous Mexican slaves, who were indeed, distributed through the palace, anxious to do the bidding of the strangers.
After the repast was concluded, and they had taken their siesta, not less important to a Spaniard than food itself, the
presence of the emperor was again announced.

Montezuma was attended by a few of his principal nobles. He was received with much deference by Cortes; and, after
the parties had taken their seats, a conversation commenced between them through the aid of Dona Marina, while the
cavaliers and Aztec chieftains stood around in respectful silence.

Montezuma made many inquiries concerning the country of the Spaniards, their sovereign, the nature of his
government, and especially their own motives in visiting Anahuac. Cortes explained these motives by the desire to see
so distinguished a monarch, and to declare to him the true Faith professed by the Christians. With rare discretion, he
contented himself with dropping this hint for the present, allowing it to ripen in the mind of the emperor till a
future conference. The latter asked, whether those white men, who in the preceding year had landed on the eastern
shores of his empire, were their countrymen. He showed himself well-informed of the proceedings of the Spaniards from
their arrival in Tabasco to the present time, information of which had been regularly transmitted in the hieroglyphical
paintings. He was curious, also, in regard to the rank of his visitors in their own country; inquiring, if they were
the kinsmen of the sovereign. Cortes replied, they were kinsmen of one another, and subjects of their great monarch,
who held them all in peculiar estimation. Before his departure, Montezuma made himself acquainted with the names of the
principal cavaliers, and the position they occupied. in the army.

At the conclusion of the interview, the Aztec prince commanded his attendants to bring forward the presents prepared
for his guests. They consisted of cotton dresses, enough to supply every man, it is said, including the allies, with a
suit! And he did not fail to add the usual accompaniment of gold chains and other ornaments, which he distributed in
profusion among the Spaniards. He then withdrew with the same ceremony with which he had entered, leaving every one
deeply impressed with his munificence and his affability, so unlike what they had been taught to expect by what they
now considered an invention of the enemy.

That evening, the Spaniards celebrated their arrival in the Mexican capital by a general discharge of artillery. The
thunders of the ordnance reverberating among the buildings and shaking them to their foundations, the stench of the
sulphureous vapour that rolled in volumes above the walls of the encampment, reminding the inhabitants of the
explosions of the great volcan, filled the hearts of the superstitious Aztecs with dismay. It proclaimed to them, that
their city held in its bosom those dread beings whose path had been marked with desolation, and who could call down the
thunderbolts to consume their enemies! It was doubtless the policy of Cortes to strengthen this superstitious feeling
as far as possible, and to impress the natives, at the outset, with a salutary awe of the supernatural powers of the
Spaniards.

On the following morning, the general requested permission to return the emperor’s visit, by waiting on him in his
palace. This was readily granted, and Montezuma sent his officers to conduct the Spaniards to his presence. Cortes
dressed himself in his richest habit, and left the quarters attended by Alvarado, Sandoval, Velasquez, and Ordaz,
together with five or six of the common file.

The royal habitation was at no great distance. It was a vast, irregular pile of low stone buildings, like that
garrisoned by the Spaniards. So spacious was it indeed, that, as one of the Conquerors assures us, although he had
visited it more than once, for the express purpose, he had been too much fatigued each time by wandering through the
apartments ever to see the whole of it. It was built of the red porous stone of the country, tetzontli, was ornamented
with marble, and on the facade over the principal entrance were sculptured the arms or device of Montezuma, an eagle
bearing an ocelot in his talons.

In the courts through which the Spaniards passed, fountains of crystal water were playing, fed from the copious
reservoir on the distant hill of Chapoltepec, and supplying in their turn more than a hundred baths in the interior of
the palace. Crowds of Aztec nobles were sauntering up and down in these squares, and in the outer halls, loitering away
their hours in attendance on the court. The apartments were of immense size, though not lofty. The ceilings were of
various sorts of odoriferous wood ingeniously carved; the floors covered with mats of the palm-leaf. The walls were
hung with cotton richly stained, with the skins of wild animals, or gorgeous draperies of feather-work wrought in
imitation of birds, insects, and flowers, with the nice art and glowing radiance of colours that might compare with the
tapestries of Flanders. Clouds of incense rolled up from censers, and diffused intoxicating odours through the
apartments. The Spaniards might well have fancied themselves in the voluptuous precincts of an Eastern harem, instead
of treading the halls of a wild barbaric chief in the Western World.

On reaching the hall of audience, the Mexican officers took off their sandals, and covered their gay attire with a
mantle of nequen, a coarse stuff made of the fibres of the maguey, worn only by the poorest classes. This act of
humiliation was imposed on all, except the members of his own family, who approached the sovereign. Thus bare-footed,
with downcast eyes, and formal obeisance, they ushered the Spaniards into the royal presence.

They found Montezuma seated at the further end of a spacious saloon, and surrounded by a few of his favourite
chiefs. He received them kindly, and very soon Cortes, without much ceremony, entered on the subject which was
uppermost in his thoughts. He was fully aware of the importance of gaining the royal convert, whose example would have
such an influence on the conversion of his people. The general, therefore, prepared to display the whole store of his
theological science, with the most winning arts of rhetoric he could command, while the interpretation was conveyed
through the silver tones of Marina, as inseparable from him, on these occasions, as his shadow.

He set forth, as clearly as he could, the ideas entertained by the Church in regard to the holy mysteries of the
Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Atonement. From this he ascended to the origin of things, the creation of the world,
the first pair, paradise, and the fall of man. He assured Montezuma, that the idols he worshipped were Satan under
different forms. A sufficient proof of it was the bloody sacrifices they imposed, which he contrasted with the pure and
simple rite of the mass. Their worship would sink him in perdition. It was to snatch his soul, and the souls of his
people, from the flames of eternal fire by opening to them a purer faith, that the Christians had come to his land. And
he earnestly besought him not to neglect the occasion, but to secure his salvation by embracing the Cross, the great
sign of human redemption.

The eloquence of the preacher was wasted on the insensible heart of his royal auditor. It doubtless lost somewhat of
its efficacy, strained through the imperfect interpretation of so recent a neophyte as the Indian damsel. But the
doctrines were too abstruse in themselves to be comprehended at a glance by the rude intellect of a barbarian. And
Montezuma may have, perhaps, thought it was not more monstrous to feed on the flesh of a fellow-creature, than on that
of the Creator himself. He was, besides, steeped in the superstitions of his country from his cradle. He had been
educated in the straitest sect of her religion; had been himself a priest before his election to the throne; and was
now the head both of the religion and the state. Little probability was there that such a man would be open to argument
or persuasion, even from the lips of a more practised polemic than the Spanish commander. How could he abjure the faith
that was intertwined with the dearest affections of his heart, and the very elements of his being? How could he be
false to the gods who had raised him to such prosperity and honours, and whose shrines were intrusted to his especial
keeping?

He listened, however, with silent attention, until the general had concluded his homily. He then replied, that he
knew the Spaniards, had held this discourse wherever they had been. He doubted not their God was, as they said, a good
being. His gods, also, were good to him. Yet what his visitor said of the creation of the world was like what he had
been taught to believe. It was not worth while to discourse further of the matter. His ancestors, he said, were not the
original proprietors of the land. They had occupied it but a few ages, and had been led there by a great Being, who;
after giving them laws and ruling over the nation for a time, had withdrawn to the regions where the sun rises. He had
declared, on his departure, that he or his descendants would again visit them and resume his empire. The wonderful
deeds of the Spaniards, their fair complexions, and the quarter whence they came, all showed they were his descendants.
If Montezuma had resisted their visit to his capital, it was because he had heard such accounts Of their cruelties —
that they sent the lightning to consume his people, or crushed them to pieces under the hard feet of the ferocious
animals on which they rode. He was now convinced that these were idle tales; that the Spaniards were kind and generous
in their natures; they were mortals of a different race, indeed, from the Aztecs, wiser, and more valiant — and for
this he honoured them.

“You, too,” he added, with a smile, “have been told, perhaps, that I am a god, and dwell in palaces of gold and
silver. But you see, it is false. My houses, though large, are of stone and wood like those of others; and as to my
body,” he said, baring his tawny arm, “you see it is flesh and bone like yours. It is true, I have a great empire,
inherited from my ancestors; lands, and gold, and silver. But your sovereign beyond the waters is, I know, the rightful
lord of all. I rule in his name. You, Malinche, are his ambassador; you and your brethren shall share these things with
me. Rest now from your labours. You are here in your own dwellings, and everything shall be provided for your
subsistence. I will see that your wishes shall be obeyed in the same way as my own.” As the monarch concluded these
words, a few natural tears suffused his eyes, while the image of ancient independence, perhaps, flitted across his
mind.

Cortes, while he encouraged the idea that his own sovereign was the great Being indicated by Montezuma, endeavoured
to comfort the monarch by the assurance that his master had no desire to interfere with his authority, otherwise than,
out of pure concern for his welfare, to effect his conversion and that of his people to Christianity. Before the
emperor dismissed his visitors he consulted his munificent spirit, as usual, by distributing rich stuffs and trinkets
of gold among them, so that the poorest soldier, says Bernal Diaz, one of the party, received at least two heavy
collars of the precious metal for his share. The iron hearts of the Spaniards were touched with the emotion displayed
by Montezuma, as well as by his princely spirit of liberality. As they passed him, the cavaliers, with bonnet in hand,
made him the most profound obeisance, and, “on the way home,” continues the same chronicler, “we could discourse of
nothing but the gentle breeding and courtesy of the Indian monarch, and of the respect we entertained for him.”

Speculations of a graver complexion must have pressed on the mind of the general, as he saw around him the evidences
of a civilisation, and consequently power, for which even the exaggerated reports of the natives — discredited from
their apparent exaggeration — had not prepared him. In the pomp and burdensome ceremonial of the court, he saw that
nice system of subordination and profound reverence for the monarch which characterise the semi-civilised empires of
Asia. In the appearance of the capital, its massy, yet elegant architecture, its luxurious social accommodations, its
activity in trade, he recognised the proofs of the intellectual progress, mechanical skill, and enlarged resources, of
an old and opulent community; while the swarms in the streets attested the existence of a population capable of turning
these resources to the best account.

In the Aztec he beheld a being unlike either the rude republican Tlascalan, or the effeminate Cholulan; but
combining the courage of the one with the cultivation of the other. He was in the heart of a great capital, which
seemed like an extensive fortification, with its dikes and its drawbridges, where every house might be easily converted
into a castle. Its insular position removed it from the continent, from which, at the mere nod of the sovereign, all
communication might be cut off, and the whole warlike population be at once precipitated on him and his handful of
followers. What could superior science avail against such odds?

As to the subversion of Montezuma’s empire, now that he had seen him in his capital, it must have seemed a more
doubtful enterprise than ever. The recognition which the Aztec prince had made of the feudal supremacy, if I may so
say, of the Spanish sovereign, was not to be taken too literally. Whatever show of deference he be disposed to pay the
latter, under the influence of his present — perhaps temporary-delusion, it was not to be supposed that he would so
easily relinquish his actual power and possessions, or that his people would consent to it. Indeed, his sensitive
apprehensions in regard to this very subject, on the coming of the Spaniards, were sufficient proof of the tenacity
with which he clung to his authority. It is true that Cortes had a strong lever for future operations in the
superstitious reverence felt for himself both by prince and people. It was undoubtedly his policy to maintain this
sentiment unimpaired in both, as far as possible. But, before settling any plan of operations, it was necessary to make
himself personally acquainted with the topography and local advantages of the capital, the character of its population,
and the real nature and amount of its resources. With this view, he asked the emperor’s permission to visit the
principal public edifices.

BOOK IV:

Residence in Mexico

Chapter I 1519

TEZCUCAN LAKE— DESCRIPTION OF THE CAPITAL— PALACES AND MUSEUMS— ROYAL HOUSEHOLD— MONTEZUMA’S WAY OF
LIFE

THE ancient city of Mexico covered the same spot occupied by the modern capital. The great causeways touched it in
the same points; the streets ran in much the same direction, nearly from north to south, and from east to west; the
cathedral in the plaza mayor stands on same ground that was covered by the temple of the Aztec war-god; and the four
principal quarters of the town are still known among the Indians by their ancient names. Yet an Aztec of the days of
Montezuma, could he behold the modern metropolis; which has risen with such phoenix-like splendour from the ashes of
the old, would not recognise its site as that of his own Tenochtitlan. For the latter was encompassed by the salt
floods of Tezcuco, which flowed in ample canals through every part of the city; while the Mexico of our day stands high
and dry on the mainland, nearly a league distant, at its centre, from the water. The cause of this apparent change in
its position is the diminution of the lake, which, from the rapidity of evaporation in these elevated regions, had
become perceptible before the Conquest, but which has since been greatly accelerated by artificial causes.

The chinampas, that archipelago of wandering islands, to which our attention was drawn in the last chapter, have
also nearly disappeared. These had their origin in the detached masses of earth, which, loosening from the shores, were
still held together by the fibrous roots with which they were penetrated. The primitive Aztecs, in their poverty of
land, availed themselves of the hint thus afforded by nature. They constructed rafts of reeds, rushes, and other
fibrous materials, which, tightly knit together, formed a sufficient basis for the sediment that they drew up from the
bottom of the lake. Gradually islands were formed, two or three hundred feet in length, and three or four feet in
depth, with a rich stimulated soil, on which the economical Indian raised his vegetables and flowers for the markets of
Tenochtitlan. Some of these chinampas were even firm enough to allow the growth of small trees, and to sustain a hut
for the residence of the person that had charge of it, who, with a long pole resting on the sides or the bottom of the
shallow basin, could change the position of his little territory at pleasure, which with its rich freight of vegetable
stores was seen moving like some enchanted island over the water.

The ancient dikes were three in number. That of Iztapalapan, by which the Spaniards entered, approaching the city
from the south. That of Tepejacac, on the north, which, continuing the principal street, might be regarded, also, as a
continuation of the first causeway. Lastly, the dike of Tlacopan, connecting the island-city with the continent on the
west. This last causeway, memorable for the disastrous retreat of the Spaniards, was about two miles in length. They
were all built in the same substantial manner, of lime and stone, were defended by drawbridges, and were wide enough
for ten or twelve horsemen to ride abreast.

The rude founders of Tenochtitlan built their frail tenements of reeds and rushes on the group of small islands in
the western part of the lake. In process of time, these were supplanted by more substantial buildings. A quarry in the
neighbourhood, of a red porous amygdaloid, tetzontli, was opened, and a light, brittle stone drawn from it, and wrought
with little difficulty. Of this their edifices were constructed, with some reference to architectural solidity, if not
elegance. Mexico, as already noticed, was the residence of the great chiefs, whom the sovereign encouraged, or rather
compelled, from obvious motives of policy, to spend part of the year in the capital. It was also the temporary abode of
the great lords of Tezcuco and Tlacopan, who shared nominally, at least, the sovereignty of the empire. The mansions of
these dignitaries, and of the principal nobles, were on a scale of rude magnificence corresponding with their state.
They were low, indeed; seldom of more than one floor, never exceeding two. But they spread over a wide extent of
ground; were arranged in a quadrangular form, with a court in the centre, and were surrounded by porticoes embellished
with porphyry and jasper, easily found in the neighbourhood, while not unfrequently a fountain of crystal water in the
centre shed a grateful coolness over the atmosphere. The dwellings of the common people were also placed on foundations
of stone, which rose to the height of a few feet, and were then succeeded by courses of unbaked bricks, crossed
occasionally by wooden rafters. Most of the streets were mean and narrow. Some few, however, were wide and of great
length. The principal street, conducting from the great southern causeway, penetrated in a straight line the whole
length of the city, and afforded a noble vista, in which the long lines of low stone edifices were broken occasionally
by intervening gardens, rising on terraces, and displaying all the pomp of Aztec horticulture.

The great streets, which were coated with a hard cement, were intersected by numerous canals. Some of these were
flanked by a solid way, which served as a foot-walk for passengers, and as a landing-place where boats might discharge
their cargoes. Small buildings were erected at intervals, as stations for the revenue officers who collected the duties
on different articles of merchandise. The canals were traversed by numerous bridges, many of which could be raised
affording the means of cutting off communication between different parts of the city.

From the accounts of the ancient capital, one is reminded of those acquatic cities in the Old World, the positions
of which have been selected from similar motives of economy and defence; above all, of Venice — if it be not rash to
compare the rude architecture of the American Indian with the marble palaces and temples — alas, how shorn of their
splendour! — which crowned the once proud mistress of the Adriatic. The example of the metropolis was soon followed by
the other towns in the vicinity. Instead of resting their foundations on terra firma, they were seen advancing far into
the lake, the shallow waters of which in some parts do not exceed four feet in depth. Thus an easy means of
intercommunication was opened, and the surface of this inland “sea,” as Cortes styles it, was darkened by thousands of
canoes — an Indian term — industriously engaged in the traffic between these little communities. How gay and
picturesque must have been the aspect of the lake in those days, with its shining cities, and flowering islets rocking,
as it were, at anchor on the fair bosom of its waters!

The population of Tenochtitlan, at the time of the Conquest, is variously stated. No contemporary writer estimates
it at less than sixty thousand houses, which, by the ordinary rules of reckoning, would give three hundred thousand
souls. If a dwelling often contained, as is asserted, several families, it would swell the amount considerably higher.
Nothing is more uncertain than estimates of numbers among barbarous communities, who necessarily live in a more
confused and promiscuous manner than civilised, and among whom no regular system is adopted for ascertaining the
population. The concurrent testimony of the Conquerors; the extent of the city, which was said to be nearly three
leagues in circumference; the immense size of its great market-place; the long lines of edifices, vestiges of whose
ruins may still be found in the suburbs, miles from the modern city; the fame of the metropolis throughout Anahuac,
which, however, could boast many large and populous places; lastly, the economical husbandry and the ingenious
contrivances to extract aliment from the most unpromising sources — all attest a numerous population, far beyond that
of the present capital.

A careful police provided for the health and cleanliness of the city. A thousand persons are said to have been daily
employed in watering and sweeping the streets, so that a man — to borrow the language of an old Spaniard —“could walk
through them with as little danger of soiling his feet as his hands.” The water, in a city washed on all sides by the
salt floods, was extremely brackish. A liberal supply of the pure element, however, was brought from Chapoltepec, “the
grasshopper’s hill,” less than a league distant. it was brought through an earthen pipe, along a dike constructed for
the purpose. That there might be no failure in so essential an article, when repairs were going on, a double course of
pipes was laid. In this way a column of water the size of a man’s body was conducted into the heart of the capital,
where it fed the fountains and reservoirs of the principal mansions. Openings were made in the aqueduct as it crossed
the bridges, and thus a supply was furnished to the canoes below, by means of which it was transported to all parts of
the city.

While Montezuma encouraged a taste for architectural magnificence in his nobles, he contributed his own share
towards the embellishment of the city. It was in his reign that the famous calendarstone, weighing, probably, in its
primitive state, nearly fifty tons, was transported from its native quarry, many leagues distant, to the capital, where
it still forms one of the most curious monuments of Aztec science. Indeed, when we reflect on the difficulty of hewing
such a stupendous mass from its hard basaltic bed without the aid of iron tools, and that of transporting it such a
distance across land and water without the help of animals, we may feel admiration at the mechanical ingenuity and
enterprise of the people who accomplished it.

Not content with the spacious residence of his father, Montezuma erected another on a yet more magnificent scale. It
occupied the ground partly covered by the private dwellings on one side of the plaza mayor of the modern city. This
building, or, as it might more correctly be styled, pile of buildings, spread over an extent of ground so vast, that,
as one of the Conquerors assures us, its terraced roof might have afforded ample room for thirty knights to run their
courses in a regular tourney. I have already noticed its interior decorations, its fanciful draperies, its roofs inlaid
with cedar and other odoriferous woods, held together without a nail, and probably without a knowledge of the arch, its
numerous and spacious apartments, which Cortes, with enthusiastic hyperbole, does not hesitate to declare superior to
anything of the kind in Spain.

Adjoining the principal edifices were others devoted to various objects. One was an armoury, filled with the weapons
and military dresses worn by the Aztecs, all kept in the most perfect order, ready for instant use. The emperor was
himself very expert in the management of the maquahuitl, or Indian sword, and took great delight in witnessing athletic
exercises, and the mimic representation of war by his young nobility. Another building was used as a granary, and
others as warehouses for the different articles of food and apparel contributed by the districts charged with the
maintenance of the royal household.

There were also edifices appropriated to objects of quite another kind. One of these was an immense aviary, in which
birds of splendid plumage were assembled from all parts of the empire. Here was the scarlet cardinal, the golden
pheasant, the endless parrot-tribe with their rainbow hues (the royal green predominant), and that miniature miracle of
nature, the humming-bird, which delights to revel among the honeysuckle bowers of Mexico. Three hundred attendants had
charge of this aviary, who made themselves acquainted with the appropriate food of its inmates, oftentimes procured at
great cost, and in the moulting season were careful to collect the beautiful plumage, which, with its many-coloured
tints, furnished the materials for the Aztec painter.

A separate building was reserved for the fierce birds of prey; the voracious vulture-tribes and eagles of enormous
size, whose home was in the snowy solitudes of the Andes. No less than five hundred turkeys, the cheapest meat in
Mexico, were allowed for the daily consumption of these tyrants of the feathered race.

Adjoining this aviary was a menagerie of wild animals, gathered from the mountain forests, and even from the remote
swamps of the tierra caliente. The resemblance of the different species to those in the Old World, with which no one of
them, however, was identical, led to a perpetual confusion the nomenclature of the Spaniards, as it has since done in
that of better instructed naturalists. The collection was still further swelled by a great number of reptiles and
serpents, remarkable for their size and venomous qualities, among which the Spaniards beheld the fiery little animal
“with the castanets in his tail,” the terror of the American wilderness. The serpents were confined in long cages,
lined with down or feathers, or in troughs of mud and water. The beasts and birds of prey were provided with apartments
large enough to allow of their moving about, and secured by a strong lattice-work, through which light and air were
freely admitted. The whole was placed under the charge of numerous keepers, who acquainted themselves with the habits
of their prisoners, and provided for their comfort and cleanliness. With what deep interest would the enlightened
naturalist of that day — an Oviedo, or a Martyr, for example — have surveyed this magnificent collection, in which the
various tribes which roamed over the Western wilderness, the unknown races of an unknown world, were, brought into one
view! How would they have delighted to study the peculiarities of these new species, compared with those of their own
hemisphere, and thus have risen to some comprehension of the general laws by which Nature acts in all her works! The
rude followers of Cortes did not trouble themselves with such refined speculations. They gazed on the spectacle with a
vague curiosity, not unmixed with awe; and, as they listened to the wild cries of the ferocious animals and the
hissings of the serpents, they almost fancied themselves in the infernal regions.

I must not omit to notice a strange collection of human monsters, dwarfs, and other unfortunate persons, in whose
organisation Nature had capriciously deviated from her regular laws. Such hideous anomalies were regarded by the Aztecs
as a suitable appendage of state. It is even said they were in some cases the result of artificial means, employed by
unnatural parents, desirous to secure a provision for their offspring by thus qualifying them for a place in the royal
museum!

Extensive gardens were spread out around these buildings, filled with fragrant shrubs and flowers, and especially
with medicinal plants. No country has afforded more numerous species of these last, than New Spain; and their virtues
were perfectly understood by the Aztecs, with whom medical botany may be said to have been studied as a science. Amidst
this labyrinth of sweet-scented groves and shrubberies, fountains of pure water might be seen throwing up their
sparkling jets, and scattering refreshing dews over the blossoms. Ten large tanks, well stocked with fish, afforded a
retreat on their margins to various tribes of water-fowl, whose habits were so carefully consulted, that some of these
ponds were of salt water, as that which they most loved to frequent. A tessellated pavement of marble inclosed the
ample basins, which were overhung by light and fanciful pavilions, that admitted the perfumed breezes of the gardens,
and offered a grateful shelter to the monarch and his mistresses in the sultry heats of summer.

But the most luxurious residence of the Aztec monarch, at that season, was the royal hill of Chapoltepec, a spot
consecrated, moreover, by the ashes of his ancestors. It stood in a westerly direction from the capital, and its base
was, in his day, washed by the waters of the Tezcuco. On its lofty crest of porphyritic rock there now stands the
magnificent, though desolate, castle erected by the young viceroy Galvez, at the close of the seventeenth century. The
view from its windows is one of the finest in the environs of Mexico. The landscape is not disfigured here, as in many
other quarters, by the white and barren patches, so offensive to the sight; but the eye wanders over an unbroken
expanse of meadows and cultivated fields, waving with rich harvests of European grain. Montezuma’s gardens stretched
for miles around the base of the hill. Two statues of that monarch and his father, cut in bas relief in the porphyry,
were spared till the middle of the last century; and the grounds are still shaded by gigantic cypresses, more than
fifty feet in circumference, which were centuries old at the time of the Conquest. The place is now a tangled
wilderness of wild shrubs, where the myrtle mingles its dark, glossy leaves with the red berries and delicate foliage
of the pepper-tree. Surely there is no spot better suited to awaken meditation on the past; none where the traveller,
as he sits under those stately cypresses grey with the moss of ages, can so fitly ponder on the sad destinies of the
Indian races and the monarch who once held his courtly revels under the shadow of their branches.

The domestic establishment of Montezuma was on the same scale of barbaric splendour as everything else about him. He
could boast as many wives as are found in the harem of an Eastern sultan. They were lodged in their own apartments, and
provided with every accommodation, according to their ideas, for personal comfort and cleanliness. They passed their
hours in the usual feminine employments of weaving and embroidery, especially in the graceful feather-work, for which
such rich materials were furnished by the royal aviaries. They conducted themselves with strict decorum, under the
supervision of certain aged females, who acted in the respectable capacity of duennas, in the same manner as in the
religious houses attached to the teocallis. The palace was supplied with numerous baths, and Montezuma set the example,
in his own person, of frequent ablutions. He bathed, at least once, and changed his dress four times, it is said, every
day. He never put on the same apparel a second time, but gave it away to his attendants. Queen Elizabeth, with a
similar taste for costume, showed a less princely spirit in hoarding her discarded suits.

Besides his numerous female retinue, the halls and antechambers were filled with nobles in constant attendance on
his person, who served also as a sort of bodyguard. It had been usual for plebeians of merit to fill certain offices in
the palace. But the haughty Montezuma refused to be waited upon by any but men of noble birth. They were not
unfrequently the sons of the great chiefs, and remained as hostages in the absence of their fathers; thus serving the
double purpose of security and state.

His meals the emperor took alone. The well-matted floor of a large saloon was covered with hundreds of dishes.
Sometimes Montezuma himself, but more frequently his steward, indicated those which he preferred, and which were kept
hot by means of chafingdishes. The royal bill of fare comprehended, besides domestic animals, game from the distant
forests, and fish which, the day before, were swimming in the Gulf of Mexico! They were dressed in manifold ways, for
the Aztec artistes, as we have already had occasion to notice, had penetrated deep into the mysteries of culinary
science.

The meats were served by the attendant nobles, who then resigned the office of waiting on the monarch to maidens
selected for their personal grace and beauty. A screen of richly gilt and carved wood was drawn around him, so as to
conceal him from vulgar eyes during the repast. He was seated on a cushion, and the dinner was served on a low table,
covered with a delicate cotton cloth. The dishes were of the finest ware of Cholula. He had a service of gold, which
was reserved for religious celebrations. Indeed, it would scarcely have comported with even his princely revenues to
have used it on ordinary occasions, when his table equipage was not allowed to appear a second time, but was given away
to his attendants. The saloon was lighted by torches made of a resinous wood, which sent forth a sweet odour, and
probably not a little smoke, as they burned. At his meal, he was attended by five or six of his ancient counsellors,
who stood at a respectful distance, answering his questions, and occasionally rejoiced by some of the viands with which
he complimented them from his table.

This course of solid dishes was succeeded by another of sweetmeats and pastry, for which the Aztec cooks, provided
with the important requisites of maize-flour, eggs, and the rich sugar of the aloe, were famous. Two girls were
occupied at the further end of the apartment, during dinner, in preparing fine rolls and wafers, with which they
garnished the board from time to time. The emperor took no other beverage than the chocolatl, a potation of chocolate,
flavoured with vanilla and other spices, and so prepared as to be reduced to a froth of the consistency of honey, which
gradually dissolved in the mouth. This beverage, if so it could be called, was served in golden goblets, with spoons of
the same metal or of tortoise-shell finely wrought. The emperor was exceedingly fond of it, to judge from the quantity
— no less than fifty jars or pitchers being prepared for his own daily consumption! Two thousand more were allowed for
that of his household.

The general arrangement of the meal seems to have been not very unlike that of Europeans. But no prince in Europe
could boast a dessert which could compare with that of the Aztec emperor: for it was gathered fresh from the most
opposite climes; and his board displayed the products of his own temperate region, and the luscious fruits of the
tropics, plucked the day previous, from the green groves of the tierra caliente, and transmitted with the speed of
steam, by means of couriers, to the capital. It was as if some kind fairy should crown our banquets with the spicy
products that but yesterday were growing in a sunny isle of the far-off Indian seas!

After the royal appetite was appeased, water was handed to him by the female attendants in a silver basin, in the
same manner as had been done before commencing his meal; for the Aztecs were as constant in their ablutions, at these
times, as any nation of the East. Pipes were then brought, made of a varnished and richly gilt wood, from which he
inhaled, sometimes through the nose, at others through the mouth, the fumes of an intoxicating weed, called “tobacco,”
mingled with liquid-amber. While this soothing process of fumigation was going on, the emperor enjoyed the exhibitions
of his mountebanks and jugglers, of whom a regular corps was attached to the palace. No people, not even those of China
or Hindostan, surpassed the Aztecs in feats of agility and legerdemain.

Sometimes he amused himself with his jester; for the Indian monarch had his jesters, as well as his more refined
brethren of Europe at that day. Indeed, he used to say, that more instruction was to be gathered from them than from
wiser men, for they dared to tell the truth. At other times, he witnessed the graceful dances of his women, or took
delight in listening to music — if the rude minstrelsy of the Mexicans deserve that name — accompanied by a chant, in
slow and solemn cadence, celebrating the heroic deeds of great Aztec warriors or of his own princely line.

When he had sufficiently refreshed his spirits with these diversions, he composed himself to sleep, for in his
siesta he was as regular as a Spaniard. On awaking, he gave audience to ambassadors from foreign states, or his own
tributary cities, or to such caciques as had suits to prefer to him. They were introduced by the young nobles in
attendance, and, whatever might be their rank, unless of the blood royal, they were obliged to submit to the
humiliation of shrouding their rich dresses under the coarse mantle of nequen, and entering bare-footed, with downcast
eyes, into the presence. The emperor addressed few and brief remarks to the suitors, answering them generally by his
secretaries; and the parties retired with the same reverential obeisance, taking care to keep their faces turned
towards the monarch. Well might Cortes exclaim that no court, whether of the Grand Seignior or any other infidel, ever
displayed so pompous and elaborate a ceremonial!

Besides the crowd of retainers already noticed, the royal household was not complete without a host of artisans
constantly employed in the erection or repair of buildings, besides a great number of jewellers and persons skilled in
working metals, who found abundant demand for their trinkets among the dark-eyed beauties of the harem. The imperial
mummers and jugglers were also very numerous, and the dancers belonging to the palace occupied a particular district of
the city, appropriated exclusively to them.

The maintenance of this little host, amounting to some thousands of individuals, involved a heavy expenditure,
requiring accounts of a complicated, and, to a simple people, it might well be, embarrassing nature. Everything,
however, was conducted with perfect order; and all the various receipts and disbursements were set down in the
picture-writing of the country. The arithmetical characters were of a more refined and conventional sort than those for
narrative purposes; and a separate apartment was fired with hieroglyphical ledgers, exhibiting a complete view of the
economy of the palace. The care of all this was intrusted to a treasurer, who acted as sort of major-domo in the
household, having a general superintendence over all its concerns. This responsible office, on the arrival of the
Spaniards, was in the hands of a trusty cacique named Tapia.

Such is the picture of Montezuma’s domestic establishment and way of living, as delineated by the conquerors, and
their immediate followers, who had the best means of information, too highly coloured, it may be, by the proneness to
exaggerate, which was natural to those who first witnessed a spectacle so striking to the imagination, so new and
unexpected. I have thought it best to present the full details, trivial though they may seem to the reader, as
affording a curious picture of manners, so superior in point of refinement to those of the other aboriginal tribes on
the North American continent. Nor are they, in fact, so trivial, when we reflect, that in these details of private life
we possess a surer measure of civilisation, than in those of a public nature.

In surveying them we are strongly reminded of the civilisation of the East; not of that higher, intellectual kind
which belonged to the more polished Arabs and the Persians, but that semi-civilisation which has distinguished, for
example, the Tartar races, among whom art, and even science, have made, indeed, some progress in their adaptation to
material wants and sensual gratification, but little in reference to the higher and more ennobling interests of
humanity. It is characteristic of such a people to find a puerile pleasure in a dazzling and ostentatious pageantry; to
mistake show for substance, vain pomp for power; to hedge round the throne itself with a barren and burdensome
ceremonial, the counterfeit of real majesty.

Even this, however, was an advance in refinement compared with the rude manners of the earlier Aztecs. The change
may, doubtless, be referred in some degree to the personal influence of Montezuma. In his younger days, he had tempered
the fierce habits of the soldier with the milder profession of religion. In later life, he had withdrawn himself still
more from the brutalising occupations of war, and his manners acquired a refinement tinctured, it may be added, with an
effeminacy unknown to his martial predecessors.

The condition of the empire, too, under his reign, was favourable to this change. The dismemberment of the Tezcucan
kingdom, on the death of the great Nezahualpilli, had left the Aztec monarchy without a rival; and it soon spread its
colossal arms over the furthest limits of Anahuac. The aspiring mind of Montezuma rose with the acquisition of wealth
and power; and he displayed the consciousness of new importance by the assumption of unprecedented state. He affected a
reserve unknown to his predecessors; withdrew his person from the vulgar eye, and fenced himself round with an
elaborate and courtly etiquette. When he went abroad, it was in state, on some public occasion, usually to the great
temple, to take part in the religious services; and, as he passed along, he exacted from his people, as we have seen,
the homage of an adulation worthy of an oriental despot. His haughty demeanour touched the pride of his more potent
vassals, particularly those who at a distance felt themselves nearly independent of his authority. His exactions,
demanded by the profuse expenditure of his palace, scattered broadcast the seeds of discontent; and, while the empire
seemed towering in its most palmy and prosperous state, the canker had eaten deepest into its heart.

Chapter II 1519

FOUR days had elapsed since the Spaniards made their entry into Mexico. Whatever schemes their commander may have
revolved in his mind, he felt that he could determine on no plan of operations till he had seen more of the capital,
and ascertained by his own inspection the nature of its resources. He accordingly, as was observed at the close of the
last book, sent to Montezuma, asking permission to visit the great teocalli, and some other places in the city.

The friendly monarch consented without difficulty. He even prepared to go in person to the great temple, to receive
his guests there — it may be, to shield the shrine of his tutelar deity from any attempted profanation. He was
acquainted, as we have already seen, with the proceedings of the Spaniards on similar occasions in the course of their
march. — Cortes put himself at the head of his little corps of cavalry, and nearly all the Spanish foot, as usual, and
followed the caciques sent by Montezuma to guide him. They proposed first to conduct him to the great market of
Tlatelolco in the western part of the city.

On the way, the Spaniards were struck, in the same manner as they had been on entering the capital, with the
appearance of the inhabitants, and their great superiority in the style and quality of their dress, over the people of
the lower countries. The tilmatli, or cloak, thrown over the shoulders, and tied round the neck, made of cotton of
different degrees of fineness, according to the condition of the wearer, and the ample sash around the loins, were
often wrought in rich and elegant figures, and edged with a deep fringe or tassel. As the weather was now growing cool,
mantles of fur or of the gorgeous feather-work were sometimes substituted. The latter combined the advantage of great
warmth with beauty. The Mexicans had also the art of spinning a fine thread of the hair of the rabbit and other
animals, which they wove into a delicate web that took a permanent dye.

The women, as in other parts of the country, seemed to go about as freely as the men. They wore several skirts or
petticoats of different lengths, with highly ornamented borders, and sometimes over them loose flowing robes, which
reached to the ankles. These also were made of cotton, for the wealthier classes, of a fine texture, prettily
embroidered. No veils were worn here, as in some other parts of Anahuac, where they were made of the aloe thread, or of
the light web of hair above noticed. The Aztec women had their faces exposed; and their dark raven tresses floated
luxuriantly over their shoulders, revealing features which, although of a dusky or rather cinnamon hue, were not
unfrequently pleasing, while touched with the serious, even sad expression characteristic of the national
physiognomy.

On drawing near to the tianguez, or great market, the Spaniards were astonished at the throng of people pressing
towards it, and, on entering the place, their surprise was still further heightened by the sight of the multitudes
assembled there, and the dimensions of the inclosure, thrice as large as the celebrated square of Salamanca. Here were
met together traders from all parts, with the products and manufactures peculiar to their countries; the goldsmiths of
Azcapotzalco; the potters and jewellers of Cholula, the painters of Tezcuco, the stone-cutters of Tenajocan, the
hunters of Xilotepec, the fishermen of Cuitlahuac, the fruiterers of the warm countries, the mat and chair-makers of
Quauhtitlan, and the florists of Xochimilco — all busily engaged in recommending their respective wares, and in
chaffering with purchasers.

The market-place was surrounded by deep porticoes, and the several articles had each its own quarter allotted to it.
Here might be seen cotton piled up in bales, or manufactured into dresses and articles of domestic use, as tapestry,
curtains, coverlets, and the like. The richly-stained and nice fabrics reminded Cortes of the alcayceria, or
silk-market of Granada. There was the quarter assigned to the goldsmiths, where the purchaser might find various
articles of ornament or use formed of the precious metals, or curious toys, such as we have already had occasion to
notice, made in imitation of birds and fishes, with scales and feathers alternately of gold and silver, and with
movable heads and bodies. These fantastic little trinkets were often garnished with precious stones, and showed a
patient, puerile ingenuity in the manufacture, like that of the Chinese.

In an adjoining quarter were collected specimens of pottery, coarse and fine, vases of wood elaborately carved,
varnished or gilt, of curious and sometimes graceful forms. There were also hatchets made of copper alloyed with tin,
the substitute, and, as it proved, not a bad one, for iron. The soldier found here all the implements of his trade. The
casque fashioned into the head of some wild animal, with its grinning defences of teeth, and bristling crest dyed with
the rich tint of the cochineal; the escaupil, or quilted doublet of cotton, the rich surcoat of feather-mail, and
weapons of all sorts, copper-headed lances and arrows, and the broad maquahuitl, the Mexican sword, with its sharp
blades of itztli. Here were razors and mirrors of this same hard and polished mineral which served so many of the
purposes of steel with the Aztecs. In the square were also to be found booths occupied by barbers, who used these same
razors in their vocation. For the Mexicans, contrary to the popular and erroneous notions respecting the aborigines of
the New World, had beards, though scanty ones. Other shops or booths were tenanted by apothecaries, well provided with
drugs, roots, and different medicinal preparations. In other places, again, blank books or maps for the hieroglyphical
picture-writing were to be seen, folded together like fans, and made of cotton, skins, or more commonly the fibres of
the agave, the Aztec papyrus.

Under some of the porticoes they saw hides raw and dressed, and various articles for domestic or personal use made
of the leather. Animals, both wild and tame, were offered for sale, and near them, perhaps, a gang of slaves, with
collars round their necks, intimating they were likewise on sale — a spectacle unhappily not confined to the barbarian
markets of Mexico, though the evils of their condition were aggravated there by the consciousness that a life of
degradation might be consummated at any moment by the dreadful doom of sacrifice.

The heavier materials for building, as stone, lime, timber, were considered too bulky to be allowed a place in the
square, and were deposited in the adjacent streets on the borders of the canals. It would be tedious to enumerate all
the various articles, whether for luxury or daily use, which were collected from all quarters in this vast bazaar. I
must not omit to mention, however, the display of provisions, one of the most attractive features of the tianguez;
meats of all kinds, domestic poultry, game from the neighbouring mountains, fish from the lakes and streams, fruits in
all the delicious abundance of these temperate regions, green vegetables, and the unfailing maize. There was many a
viand, too, ready dressed, which sent up its savoury steams provoking the appetite of the idle passenger; pastry, bread
of the Indian corn, cakes, and confectionery. Along with these were to be seen cooling or stimulating beverages, the
spicy foaming chocolatl — with its delicate aroma of vanilla, and the inebriating pulque, the fermented juice of the
aloe. All these commodities, and every stall and portico, were set out, or rather smothered, with flowers, showing, on
a much greater scale, indeed, a taste similar to that displayed in the markets of modern Mexico. Flowers seem to be the
spontaneous growth of this luxuriant soil; which, instead of noxious weeds, as in other regions, is ever ready, without
the aid of man, to cover up its nakedness with this rich and variegated livery of nature.

As to the numbers assembled in the market, the estimates differ, as usual. The Spaniards often visited the place,
and no one states the amount at less than forty thousand! Some carry it much higher. Without relying too much on the
arithmetic of the Conquerors, it is certain that on this occasion, which occurred every fifth day, the city swarmed
with a motley crowd of strangers, not only from the vicinity, but from many leagues around; the causeways were
thronged, and the lake was darkened by canoes filled with traders flocking to the great tianguez. It resembled indeed
the periodical fairs in Europe, not as they exist now, but as they existed in the Middle Ages, when, from the
difficulties of intercommunication, they served as the great central marts for commercial intercourse, exercising a
most important and salutary influence on the community.

The exchanges were conducted partly by barter, but more usually in the currency of the country. This consisted of
bits of tin stamped with a character like a T, bags of cacao, the value of which was regulated by their size, and
lastly quills filled with gold dust. Gold was part of the regular currency, it seems, in both hemispheres. In their
dealings it is singular that they should have had no knowledge of scales and weights. The quantity was determined by
measure and number.

The most perfect order reigned throughout this vast assembly. Officers patrolled the square, whose business it was
to keep the peace, to collect the duties imposed on the different articles of merchandise, to see that no false
measures or fraud of any kind were used, and to bring offenders at once to justice. A court of twelve judges sat in one
part of the tianguez, clothed with those ample and summary powers, which, in despotic countries, are often delegated
even to petty tribunals. The extreme severity with which they exercised these powers, in more than one instance, proves
that they were not a dead letter.

The tianguez of Mexico was naturally an object of great interest, as well as wonder, to the Spaniards. For in it
they saw converged into one focus, as it were, all the rays of civilisation scattered throughout the land. Here they
beheld the various evidences of mechanical skill, of domestic industry, the multiplied resources, of whatever kind,
within the compass of the natives. It could not fail to impress them with high ideas of the magnitude of these
resources, as well as of the commercial activity and social subordination by which the whole community was knit
together; and their admiration is fully evinced by the minuteness and energy of their descriptions.

From this bustling scene, the Spaniards took their way to the great teocalli, in the neighbourhood of their own
quarters. It covered, with the subordinate edifices, as the reader has already seen, the large tract of ground now
occupied by the cathedral, part of the market-place, and some of the adjoining streets. It was the spot which had been
consecrated to the same object, probably, ever since the foundation of the city. The present building, however, was of
no great antiquity, having been constructed by Ahuitzotl, who celebrated its dedication in 1486, by that hecatomb of
victims, of which such incredible reports are to be found in the chronicles.

It stood in the midst of a vast area, encompassed by a wall of stone and lime, about eight feet high, ornamented on
the outer side by figures of serpents, raised in relief, which gave it the name of the coatepantli, or “wall of
serpents.” This emblem was a common one in the sacred sculpture of Anahuac, as well as of Egypt. The wall, which was
quadrangular, was pierced by huge battlemented gateways, opening on the four principal streets of the capital. Over
each of the gates was a kind of arsenal, filled with arms and warlike gear; and, if we may credit the report of the
Conquerors, there were barracks adjoining, garrisoned by ten thousand soldiers, who served as a sort of military police
for the capital, supplying the emperor with a strong arm in case of tumult or sedition.

The teocalli itself was a solid pyramidal structure of earth and pebbles, coated on the outside with hewn stones,
probably of the light, porous kind employed in the buildings of the city. It was probably square, with its sides facing
the cardinal points. It was divided into five bodies or stories, each one receding so as to be of smaller dimensions
than that immediately below it; the usual form of the Aztec teocallis, as already described, and bearing obvious
resemblance to some of the primitive pyramidal structures in the Old World. The ascent was by a flight of steps on the
outside, which reached to the narrow terrace or platform at the base of the second story, passing quite round the
building, when a second stairway conducted to a similar landing at the base of the third. The breadth of this walk was
just so much space as was left by the retreating story next above it. From this construction the visitor was obliged to
pass round the whole edifice four times, in order to reach the top. This had a most imposing effect in the religious
ceremonials, when the pompous procession of priests with their wild minstrelsy came sweeping round the huge sides of
the pyramid, as they rose higher and higher in the presence of gazing multitudes, towards the summit.

The dimensions of the temple cannot be given with any certainty. The Conquerors judged by the eye, rarely troubling
themselves with anything like an accurate measurement. It was, probably, not much less than three hundred feet square
at the base; and, as the Spaniards counted a hundred and fourteen steps, was probably less than one hundred feet in
height.

When Cortes arrived before the teocalli, he found two priests and several caciques commissioned by Montezuma to save
him the fatigue of the ascent by bearing him on their shoulders, in the same manner as had been done to the emperor.
But the general declined the compliment, preferring to march up at the head of his men. On reaching the summit, they
found it a vast area, paved with broad flat stones. The first object that met their view was a large block of jasper,
the peculiar shape of which showed it was the stone on which the bodies of the unhappy victims were stretched for
sacrifice. Its convex surface, by raising the breast, enabled the priest to perform his diabolical task more easily, of
removing the heart. At the other end of the area were two towers or sanctuaries, consisting of three stories, the lower
one of stone and stucco, the two upper of wood elaborately carved. In the lower division stood the images of their
gods; the apartments above were filled with utensils for their religious services, and with the ashes of some of their
Aztec princes, who had fancied this airy sepulchre. Before each sanctuary stood an altar with that undying fire upon
it, the extinction of which boded as much evil to the empire, as that of the Vestal flame would have done in ancient
Rome. Here, also, was the huge cylindrical drum made of serpents’ skins, and struck only on extraordinary occasions,
when it sent forth a melancholy sound that might be heard for miles — a sound of woe in after times to the
Spaniards.

Montezuma, attended by the high-priest, came forward to receive Cortes as he mounted the area. “You are weary,
Malinche,” said he to him, “with climbing up our great temple.” But Cortes, with a politic vaunt, assured him “the
Spaniards were never weary!” Then, taking him by the hand, the emperor pointed out the localities of the neighbourhood.
The temple on which they stood, rising high above all other edifices in the capital, afforded the most elevated as well
as central point of view. Below them the city lay spread out like a map, with its streets and canals intersecting each
other at right angles, its terraced roofs blooming like so many parterres of flowers. Every place seemed alive with
business and bustle; canoes were glancing up and down the canals, the streets were crowded with people in their gay,
picturesque costume, while from the marketplace they had so lately left, a confused hum of many sounds and voices rose
upon the air. They could distinctly trace the symmetrical plan of the city, with its principal avenues issuing, as it
were, from the four gates of the coatepantli; and connecting themselves with the causeways, which formed the grand
entrances to the capital. This regular and beautiful arrangement was imitated in many of the inferior towns, where the
great roads converged towards the chief teocalli, or cathedral, as to a common focus. They could discern the insular
position of the metropolis, bathed on all sides by the salt floods, of the Tezcuco, and in the distance the clear fresh
waters of the Chalco; far beyond stretched a wide prospect of fields and waving woods, with the burnished walls of many
a lofty temple rising high above the trees, and crowning the distant hill-tops. The view reached in an unbroken line to
the very base of the circular range of mountains, whose frosty peaks glittered as if touched with fire in the morning
ray; while long, dark wreaths of vapour, rolling up from the hoary head of Popocatepetl, told that the destroying
element was, indeed, at work in the bosom of the beautiful valley.

Cortes was filled with admiration at this grand and glorious spectacle, and gave utterance to his feelings in
animated language to the emperor, the lord of these flourishing domains. His thoughts, however, soon took another
direction; and, turning to Father Olmedo, who stood by his side, he suggested that the area would afford a most
conspicuous position for the Christian Cross, if Montezuma would but allow it to be planted there. But the discreet
ecclesiastic, with the good sense which on these occasions seems to have been so lamentably deficient in his commander,
reminded him that such a request, at present, would be exceedingly ill-timed, as the Indian monarch had shown no
dispositions as yet favourable to Christianity.

Cortes then requested Montezuma to allow him to enter the sanctuaries, and behold the shrines of his gods. To this
the latter, after a short conference with the priests, assented, and conducted the Spaniards into the building. They
found themselves in a spacious apartment incrusted on the sides with stucco, on which various figures were sculptured,
representing the Mexican calendar, perhaps, or the priestly ritual. At one end of the saloon was a recess with a roof
of timber richly carved and gilt. Before the altar in this sanctuary stood the colossal image of Huitzilopochtli, the
tutelary deity and war-god of the Aztecs. His countenance was distorted into hideous lineaments of symbolical import.
In his right hand he wielded a bow, and in his left a bunch of golden arrows, which a mystic legend had connected with
the victories of his people. The huge folds of a serpent, consisting of pearls and precious stones, were coiled round
his waist, and the same rich materials were profusely sprinkled over his person. On his left foot were the delicate
feathers of the humming-bird, which, singularly enough, gave its name to the dread deity. The most conspicuous ornament
was a chain of gold and silver hearts alternate, suspended round his neck, emblematical of the sacrifice in which he
most delighted. A more unequivocal evidence of this was afforded by three human hearts smoking and almost palpitating,
as if recently torn from the victims, and now lying on the altar before him!

The adjoining sanctuary was dedicated to a milder deity. This was Tezcatlipoca, next in honour to that invisible
Being, the Supreme God, who was represented by no image, and confined by no temple. It was Tezcatlipoca who created the
world, and watched over it with a providential care. He was represented as a young man, and his image, of polished
black stone, was richly garnished with gold plates and ornaments; among which a shield, burnished like a mirror, was
the most characteristic emblem, as in it he saw reflected all the doings of the world. But the homage to this god was
not always of a more refined or merciful character than that paid to his carnivorous brother; for five bleeding hearts
were also seen in a golden platter on his altar.

The walls of both these chapels were stained with human gore. “The stench was more intolerable,” exclaims Diaz,
“than that of the slaughter-houses in Castile!” And the frantic forms of the priests, with their dark robes clotted
with blood, as they flitted to and fro, seemed to the Spaniards to be those of the very ministers of Satan!

From this foul abode they gladly escaped into the open air; when Cortes, turning to Montezuma, said with a smile, “I
do not comprehend how a great and wise prince like you can put faith in such evil spirits as these idols, the
representatives of the devil! If you will but permit us to erect here the true Cross, and place the images of the
blessed Virgin and her Son in your sanctuaries, you will soon see how your false gods will shrink before them!”

Montezuma was greatly shocked at this sacrilegious address. “These are the gods,” he answered, “who have led the
Aztecs on to victory since they were a nation, and who send the seed-time and harvest in their seasons. Had I thought
you would have offered them this outrage, I would not have admitted you into their presence!”

Cortes, after some expressions of concern at having wounded the feelings of the emperor, took his leave. Montezuma
remained, saying that he must expiate, if possible, the crime of exposing the shrines of the divinities to such
profanation by the strangers.

On descending to the court, the Spaniards took a leisurely survey of the other edifices in the inclosure. The area
was protected by a smooth stone pavement, so polished, indeed, that it was with difficulty the horses could keep their
legs. There were several other teocallis, built generally on the model of the great one, though of much inferior size,
dedicated to the different Aztec deities. On their summits were the altars crowned with perpetual flames, which, with
those on the numerous temples in other quarters of the capital, shed a brilliant illumination over its streets, through
the long nights.

Among the teocallis in the inclosure was one consecrated to Quetzalcoatl, circular in its form, and having an
entrance in imitation of a dragon’s mouth, bristling with sharp fangs and dropping with blood. As the Spaniards cast a
furtive glance into the throat of this horrible monster, they saw collected there implements of sacrifice and other
abominations of fearful import. Their bold hearts shuddered at the spectacle, and they designated the place not inaptly
as the “Hell.”

One other structure may be noticed as characteristic of the brutish nature of their religion. This was a pyramidal
mound or tumulus, having a complicated framework of timber on its broad summit. On this was strung an immense number of
human skulls, which belonged to the victims, mostly prisoners of war, who had perished on the accursed stone of
sacrifice. One of the soldiers had the patience to count the number of these ghastly trophies, and reported it to be
one hundred and thirty-six thousand! Belief might well be staggered, did not the Old World present a worthy counterpart
in the pyramidal Golgothas which commemorated the triumphs of Tamerlane.

There were long ranges of buildings in the inclosure, appropriated as the residence of the priests and others
engaged in the offices of religion. The whole number of them was said to amount to several thousand. Here were, also,
the principal seminaries for the instruction of youth of both sexes, drawn chiefly from the higher and wealthier
classes. The girls were taught by elderly women, who officiated as priestesses in the temples, a custom familiar also
to Egypt. The Spaniards admit that the greatest care for morals, and the most blameless deportment, were maintained in
these institutions. The time of the pupils was chiefly occupied, as in most monastic establishments, with the minute
and burdensome ceremonial of their religion. The boys were likewise taught such elements of science as were known to
their teachers, and the girls initiated in the mysteries of embroidery and weaving, which they employed in decorating
the temples. At a suitable age they generally went forth into the world to assume the occupations fitted to their
condition, though some remained permanently devoted to the services of religion.

The spot was also covered by edifices of a still different character. There were granaries filled with the rich
produce of the churchlands, and with the first-fruits and other offerings of the faithful. One large mansion was
reserved for strangers of eminence, who were on a pilgrimage to the great teocalli. The inclosure was ornamented with
gardens, shaded by ancient trees, and watered by fountains and reservoirs from the copious streams of Chapoltepec. The
little community was thus provided with almost everything requisite for its own maintenance and the services of the
temple.

It was a microcosm of itself — a city within a city; and, according to the assertion of Cortes, embraced a tract of
ground large enough for five hundred houses. It presented in this brief compass the extremes of barbarism, blended with
a certain civilisation, altogether characteristic of the Aztecs. The rude Conquerors saw only the evidence of the
former. In the fantastic and symbolical features of the deities, they beheld the literal lineaments of Satan; in the
rites and frivolous ceremonial, his own especial code of damnation; and in the modest deportment and careful nurture of
the inmates of the seminaries, the snares by which he was to beguile his deluded victims. Before a century had elapsed,
the descendants of these same Spaniards discerned in the mysteries of the Aztec religion the features, obscured and
defaced, indeed, of the Jewish and Christian revelations! Such were the opposite conclusions of the unlettered soldier
and of the scholar. A philosopher, untouched by superstition, might well doubt which of the two was the most
extraordinary.

The sight of the Indian abominations seems to have kindled in the Spaniards a livelier feeling for their own
religion; since, on the following day, they asked leave of Montezuma to convert one of the halls in their residence
into a chapel, that they might celebrate the services of the Church there. The monarch, in whose bosom the feelings of
resentment seem to have soon subsided, easily granted their request, and sent some of his own artisans to aid them in
the work.

While it was in progress, some of the Spaniards observed what appeared to be a door recently plastered over. It was
a common rumour that Montezuma still kept the treasures of his father, King Axayacatl, in this ancient palace. The
Spaniards, acquainted with this fact, felt no scruple in gratifying their curiosity by removing the plaster. As was
anticipated, it concealed a door. On forcing this, they found the rumour was no exaggeration. They beheld a large hall
filled with rich and beautiful stuffs, articles of curious workmanship of various kinds, gold and silver in bars and in
the ore, and many jewels of value. It was the private hoard of Montezuma, the contributions, it may be, of tributary
cities, and once the property of his father. “I was a young man,” says Diaz, who was one of those that obtained a sight
of it, “and it seemed to me as if all the riches of the world were in that room!” The Spaniards, notwithstanding their
elation at the discovery of this precious deposit, seem to have felt some commendable scruples as to appropriating it
to their own use — at least for the present. And Cortes, after closing up the wall as it was before, gave strict
injunctions that nothing should be said of the matter, unwilling that the knowledge of its existence by his guests
should reach the ears of Montezuma.

Three days sufficed to complete the chapel; and the Christians had the satisfaction to see themselves in possession
of a temple where they might worship God in their own way, under the protection of the Cross, and the blessed Virgin.
Mass was regularly performed by the fathers, Olmedo and Diaz, in the presence of the assembled army, who were most
earnest and exemplary in their devotions, partly, says the chronicler above quoted, from the propriety of the thing,
and partly for its edifying influence on the benighted heathen.

Chapter III 1519

ANXIETY OF CORTES— SEIZURE OF MONTEZUMA— HIS TREATMENT BY THE SPANIARDS— EXECUTION OF HIS OFFICERS—
MONTEZUMA IN IRONS— REFLECTIONS

THE Spaniards had been now a week in Mexico. During this time, they had experienced the most friendly treatment from
the emperor. But the mind of Cortes was far from easy. He felt that it was quite uncertain how long this amiable temper
would last. A hundred circumstances might occur to change it. He might very naturally feel the maintenance of so large
a body too burdensome on his treasury. The people of the capital might become dissatisfied at the presence of so
numerous an armed force within their walls. Many causes of disgust might arise betwixt the soldiers and the citizens.
Indeed, it was scarcely possible that a rude, licentious soldiery, like the Spaniards, could be long kept in subjection
without active employment. The danger was even greater with the Tlascalans, a fierce race now brought into daily
contact with the nation who held them in loathing and detestation. Rumours were already rife among the allies, whether
well-founded or not, of murmurs among the Mexicans, accompanied by menaces of raising the bridges.

Even should the Spaniards be allowed to occupy their present quarters unmolested, it was not advancing the great
object of the expedition. Cortes was not a whit nearer gaining the capital, so essential to his meditated subjugation
of the country; and any day he might receive tidings that the Crown, or, what he most feared, the governor of Cuba, had
sent a force of superior strength to wrest from him a conquest but half achieved. Disturbed by these anxious
reflections, he resolved to extricate himself from his embarrassment by one bold stroke. But he first submitted the
affair to a council of the officers in whom he most confided, desirous to divide with them the responsibility of the
act, and no doubt, to interest them more heartily in its execution, by making it in some measure the result of their
combined judgments.

When the general had briefly stated the embarrassments of their position, the council was divided in opinion. All
admitted the necessity of some instant action. One party were for retiring secretly from the city, and getting beyond
the causeways before their march could be intercepted. Another advised that it should be done openly, with the
knowledge of the emperor, of whose good will they had had so many proofs. But both these measures seemed alike
impolitic. A retreat under these circumstances, and so abruptly made, would have the air of a flight. It would be
construed into distrust of themselves; and anything like timidity on their part would be sure not only to bring on them
the Mexicans, but the contempt of their allies, who would, doubtless, join in the general cry.

As to Montezuma, what reliance could they place on the protection of a prince so recently their enemy, and who, in
his altered bearing, must have taken counsel of his fears rather than his inclinations?

Even should they succeed in reaching the coast, their situation would be little better. It would be proclaiming to
the world that, after all their lofty vaunts, they were unequal to the enterprise. Their only hopes of their
sovereign’s favour, and of pardon for their irregular proceedings, were founded on success. Hitherto, they had only
made the discovery of Mexico; to retreat would be to leave conquest and the fruits of it to another. — In short, to
stay and to retreat seemed equally disastrous.

In this perplexity, Cortes proposed an expedient, which none but the most daring spirit, in the most desperate
extremity, would have conceived. This was, to march to the royal palace, and bring Montezuma to the Spanish quarters,
by fair means if they could persuade him, by force if necessary — at all events, to get possession of his person. With
such a pledge, the Spaniards would be secure from the assault of the Mexicans, afraid by acts of violence to compromise
the safety of their prince. If he came by his own consent, they would be deprived of all apology for doing so. As long
as the emperor remained among the Spaniards, it would be easy, by allowing him a show of sovereignty, to rule in his
name, until they had taken measures for securing their safety, and the success of their enterprise. The idea of
employing a sovereign as a tool for the government of his own kingdom, if a new one in the age of Cortes, is certainly
not so in ours.

A plausible pretext for the seizure of the hospitable monarch — for the most barefaced action seeks to veil itself
under some show of decency — was afforded by a circumstance of which Cortes had received intelligence at Cholula. He
had left, as we have seen, a faithful officer, Juan de Escalante, with a hundred and fifty men in garrison at Vera
Cruz, on his departure for the capital. He had not been long absent, when his lieutenant received a message from an
Aztec chief named Quauhpopoca, governor of a district to the north of the Spanish settlement, declaring his desire to
come in person and tender his allegiance to the Spanish authorities at Vera Cruz. He requested that four of the white
men might be sent to protect him against certain unfriendly tribes through which his road lay. This was not an uncommon
request, and excited no suspicion in Escalante. The four soldiers were sent; and on their arrival two of them were
murdered by the false Aztec. The other two made their way back to the garrison.

The commander marched at once, with fifty of his men, and several thousand Indian allies, to take vengeance on the
cacique. A pitched battle followed. The allies fled from the redoubted Mexicans. The few Spaniards stood firm, and with
the aid of the firearms and the blessed Virgin, who was distinctly seen hovering over their ranks in the van, they made
good the field against the enemy. It cost them dear, however, since seven or eight Christians were slain, and among
them the gallant Escalante himself, who died of his injuries soon after his return to the fort. The Indian prisoners
captured in the battle spoke of the whole proceeding as having taken place at the instigation of Montezuma.

One of the Spaniards fell into the hands of the natives, but soon after perished of his wounds. His head was cut off
and sent to the Aztec emperor. It was uncommonly large and covered with hair; and, as Montezuma gazed on the ferocious
features, rendered more horrible by death, he seemed to read in them the dark lineaments of the destined destroyers of
his house. He turned from it with a shudder, and commanded that it should be taken from the city, and not offered at
the shrine of any of his gods.

Although Cortes had received intelligence of this disaster at Cholula, he had concealed it within his own breast, or
communicated it to very few only of his most trusty officers, from apprehension of the ill effect it might have on the
spirits of the common soldiers.

The cavaliers whom Cortes now summoned to the council were men of the same mettle with their leader. Their bold
chivalrous spirit seemed to court danger for its own sake. If one or two, less adventurous, were startled by the
proposal he made, they were soon overruled by the others, who, no doubt, considered that a desperate disease required
as desperate a remedy.

That night, Cortes was heard pacing his apartment to and fro, like a man oppressed by thought, or agitated by strong
emotion. He may have been ripening in his mind the daring scheme for the morrow. In the morning the soldiers heard mass
as usual, and Father Olmedo invoked the blessing of Heaven on their hazardous enterprise. Whatever might be the cause
in which he was embarked, the heart of the Spaniard was cheered with the conviction that the Saints were on his
side.

Having asked an audience from Montezuma, which was readily granted, the general made the necessary arrangements for
his enterprise. The principal part of his force was drawn up in the courtyard, and he stationed a considerable
detachment in the avenues leading to the palace, to cheek any attempt at rescue by the populace. He ordered twenty-five
or thirty of the soldiers to drop in at the palace, as if by accident, in groups of three or four at a time, while the
conference was going on with Montezuma. He selected five cavaliers, in whose courage and coolness he placed most trust,
to bear him company; Pedro de Alvarado, Gonzalo de Sandoval, Francisco de Lugo, Velasquez de Leon, and Alonso de Avila
— brilliant names in the annals of the Conquest. All were clad, as well as the common soldiers, in complete armour, a
circumstance of too familiar occurrence to excite suspicion.

The little party were graciously received by the emperor, who soon, with the aid of the interpreters, became
interested in a sportive conversation with the Spaniards, while he indulged his natural munificence by giving them
presents of gold and jewels. He paid the Spanish general the particular compliment of offering him one of his daughters
as his wife; an honour which the latter respectfully declined, on the ground that he was already accommodated with one
in Cuba, and that his religion forbade a plurality.

When Cortes perceived that a sufficient number of his soldiers were assembled, he changed his playful manner, and
with a serious tone briefly acquainted Montezuma with the treacherous proceedings in the tierra caliente, and the
accusation of him as their author. The emperor listened to the charge with surprise; and disavowed the act, which he
said could only have been imputed to him by his enemies. Cortes expressed his belief in his declaration, but added,
that, to prove it true, it would be necessary to send for Quauhpopoca and his accomplices, that they might be examined
and dealt with according to their deserts. To this Montezuma made no objection. Taking from his wrist, to which it was
attached, a precious stone, the royal signet, on which was cut the figure of the war-god, he gave it to one of his
nobles, with orders to show it to the Aztec governor, and require his instant presence in the capital, together with
all those who had been accessory to the murder of the Spaniards. If he resisted, the officer was empowered to call in
the aid of the neighbouring towns to enforce the mandate.

When the messenger had gone, Cortes assured the monarch that this prompt compliance with his request convinced him
of his innocence. But it was important that his own sovereign should be equally convinced of it. Nothing would promote
this so much as for Montezuma to transfer his residence to the palace occupied by the Spaniards, till on the arrival of
Quauhpopoca the affair could be fully investigated. Such an act of condescension would, of itself, show a personal
regard for the Spaniards, incompatible with the base conduct alleged against him, and would fully absolve him from all
suspicion!

Montezuma listened to this proposal, and the flimsy reasoning with which it was covered, with looks of profound
amazement. He became pale as death; but in a moment his face flushed with resentment, as with the pride of offended
dignity, he exclaimed, “Men was it ever heard that a great prince, like myself, voluntarily left his own palace to
become a prisoner in the hands of strangers!”

Cortes assured him he would not go as a prisoner. He would experience nothing but respectful treatment from the
Spaniards; would be surrounded by his own household, and hold intercourse with his people as usual. In short, it would
be but a change of residence, from one of his palaces to another, a circumstance of frequent occurrence with him. — It
was in vain. “If I should consent to such a degradation,” he answered, “my subjects never would!” When further pressed,
he offered to give up one of his sons and of his daughters to remain as hostages with the Spaniards, so that he might
be spared this disgrace.

Two hours passed in this fruitless discussion, till a high-mettled cavalier, Velasquez de Leon, impatient of the
long delay, and seeing that the attempt, if not the deed, must ruin them, cried out, “Why do we waste words on this
barbarian? We have gone too far to recede now. Let us seize him, and, if he resists, plunge our swords into his body!”
The fierce tone and menacing gestures with which this was uttered alarmed the monarch, who inquired of Marina what the
angry Spaniard said. The interpreter explained it in as gentle a manner as she could, beseeching him “to accompany the
white men to their quarters, where he would be treated with all respect and kindness, while to refuse them would but
expose himself to violence, perhaps to death.” Marina, doubtless, spoke to her sovereign as she thought, and no one had
better opportunity of knowing the truth than herself.

This last appeal shook the resolution of Montezuma. It was in vain that the unhappy prince looked around for
sympathy or support. As his eyes wandered over the stern visages and iron forms of the Spaniards, he felt that his hour
was indeed come; and, with a voice scarcely audible from emotion, he consented to accompany the strangers — to quit the
palace, whither he was never more to return. Had he possessed the spirit of the first Montezuma, he would have called
his guards around him, and left his life-blood on the threshold, sooner than have been dragged a dishonoured captive
across it. But his courage sank under circumstances. He felt he was the instrument of an irresistible Fate!

No sooner had the Spaniards got his consent, than orders were given for the royal litter. The nobles, who bore and
attended it, could scarcely believe their senses, when they learned their master’s purpose. But pride now came to
Montezuma’s aid, and, since he must go, he preferred that it should appear to be with his own free-will. As the royal
retinue, escorted by the Spaniards, marched through the street with downcast eyes and dejected mien, the people
assembled in crowds, and a rumour ran among them, that the emperor was carried off by force to the quarters of the
white men. A tumult would have soon arisen but for the intervention of Montezuma himself, who called out to the people
to disperse, as he was visiting his friends of his own accord; thus sealing his ignominy by a declaration which
deprived his subjects of the only excuse for resistance. On reaching the quarters, he sent out his nobles with similar
assurances to the mob, and renewed orders to return to their homes.

He was received with ostentatious respect by the Spaniards, and selected the suite of apartments which best pleased
him. They were soon furnished with fine cotton tapestries, feather-work, and all the elegances of Indian upholstery. He
was attended by such of his household as he chose, his wives and his pages, and was served with his usual pomp and
luxury at his meals. He gave audience, as in his own palace, to his subjects, who were admitted to his presence, few,
indeed, at a time, under the pretext of greater order and decorum. From the Spaniards themselves he met with a formal
deference. No one, not even the general himself, approached him without doffing his casque, and rendering the obeisance
due to his rank. Nor did they ever sit in his presence, without being invited by him to do so.

With all this studied ceremony and show of homage, there was one circumstance which too clearly proclaimed to his
people that their sovereign was a prisoner. In the front of the palace a patrol of sixty men was established, and the
same number in the rear. Twenty of each corps mounted guard at once, maintaining a careful watch day and night. Another
body, under command of Velasquez de Leon, was stationed in the royal antechamber. Cortes punished any departure from
duty, or relaxation of vigilance, in these sentinels, with the utmost severity. He felt, as, indeed, every Spaniard
must have felt, that the escape of the emperor now would be their ruin. Yet the task of this unintermitting watch
sorely added to their fatigues. “Better this dog of a king should die,” cried a soldier one day, “than that we should
wear out our lives in this manner.” The words were uttered in the hearing of Montezuma, who gathered something of their
import, and the offender was severely chastised by order of the general. Such instances of disrespect, however, were
very rare. Indeed, the amiable deportment of the monarch, who seemed to take pleasure in the society of his jailers,
and who never allowed a favour or attention from the meanest soldier to go unrequited, inspired the Spaniards with as
much attachment as they were capable of feeling — for a barbarian.

Things were in this posture, when the arrival of Quauhpopoca from the coast was announced. He was accompanied by his
son and fifteen Aztec chiefs. He had travelled all the way, borne, as became his high rank, in a litter. On entering
Montezuma’s presence, he threw over his dress the coarse robe of nequen, and made the usual humiliating acts of
obeisance. The poor parade of courtly ceremony was the more striking when placed in contrast with the actual condition
of the parties.

The Aztec governor was coldly received by his master, who referred the affair (had he the power to do otherwise?) to
the examination of Cortes. It was, doubtless, conducted in a sufficiently summary manner. To the general’s query,
whether the cacique was the subject of Montezuma, he replied, “And what other sovereign could I serve?” Implying that
his sway was universal. He did not deny his share in the transaction, nor did he seek to shelter himself under the
royal authority, till sentence of death was passed on him and his followers, when they all laid the blame of their
proceedings on Montezuma. They were condemned to be burnt alive in the area before the palace. The funeral piles were
made of heaps of arrows, javelins, and other weapons, drawn by the emperor’s permission from the arsenals round the
great teocalli, where they had been stored to supply means of defence in times of civic tumult or insurrection. By this
politic precaution, Cortes proposed to remove a ready means of annoyance in case of hostilities with the citizens.

To crown the whole of these extraordinary proceedings, Cortes, while preparations for the execution were going on,
entered the emperor’s apartment, attended by a soldier bearing fetters in his hands. With a severe aspect, he charged
the monarch with being the original contriver of the violence offered to the Spaniards, as was now proved by the
declaration of his own instruments. Such a crime, which merited death in a subject, could not be atoned for, even by a
sovereign, without some punishment. So saying, he ordered the soldier to fasten the fetters on Montezuma’s ankles. He
coolly waited till it was done; then, turning his back on the monarch, quitted the room.

Montezuma was speechless under the infliction of this last insult. He was like one struck down by a heavy blow, that
deprives him of all his faculties. He offered no resistance. But, though he spoke not a word, low, ill-suppressed
moans, from time to time, intimated the anguish of his spirit. His attendants, bathed in tears, offered him their
consolations. They tenderly held his feet in their arms, and endeavoured, by inserting their shawls and mantles, to
relieve them from the pressure of the iron. But they could not reach the iron which had penetrated into his soul. He
felt that he was no more a king.

Meanwhile, the execution of the dreadful doom was going forward in the courtyard. The whole Spanish force was under
arms, to check any interruption that might be offered by the Mexicans. But none was attempted. The populace gazed in
silent wonder, regarding it as the sentence of the emperor. The manner of the execution, too, excited less surprise,
from their familiarity with similar spectacles, aggravated, indeed, by additional horrors, in their own diabolical
sacrifices. The Aztec lord and his companions, bound hand and foot to the blazing piles, submitted without a cry or a
complaint to their terrible fate. Passive fortitude is the virtue of the Indian warriors; and it was the glory of the
Aztec, as of the other races on the North American continent, to show how the spirit of the brave man may triumph over
torture and the agonies of death.

When the dismal tragedy was ended, Cortes re-entered Montezuma’s apartment. Kneeling down, he unclasped his shackles
with his own hand, expressing at the same time his regret that so disagreeable a duty as that of subjecting him to such
a punishment had been imposed on him. This last indignity had entirely crushed the spirit of Montezuma; and the
monarch, whose frown, but a week since, would have made the nations of Anahuac tremble to their remotest borders, was
now craven enough to thank his deliverer for his freedom, as for a great and unmerited boon!

Not long after, the Spanish general, conceiving that his royal captive was sufficiently humbled, expressed his
willingness that he should return, if he inclined, to his own palace. Montezuma declined it; alleging, it is said, that
his nobles had more than once importuned him to resent his injuries by taking arms against the Spaniards; and that,
were he in the midst of them, it would be difficult to avoid it, or to save his capital from bloodshed and anarchy. The
reason did honour to his heart, if it was the one which influenced him. It is probable that he did not care to trust
his safety to those haughty and ferocious chieftains who had witnessed the degradation of their master, and must
despise his pusillanimity, as a thing unprecedented in an Aztec monarch.

Whatever were his reasons, it is certain that he declined the offer; and the general, in a well-feigned, or real
ecstasy, embraced him, declaring “that he loved him as a brother, and that every Spaniard would be zealously devoted to
his interests, since he had shown himself so mindful of theirs!” Honeyed words, “which,” says the shrewd old chronicler
who was present, “Montezuma was wise enough to know the worth of.”

The events recorded in this chapter are certainly some of the most extraordinary on the page of history. That a
small body of men, like the Spaniards, should have entered the palace of a mighty prince, have seized his person in the
midst of his vassals, have borne him off a captive to their quarters — that they should have put to an ignominious
death before his face his high officers, for executing probably his own commands, and have crowned the whole by putting
the monarch in irons like a common malefactor — that this should have been done, not to a drivelling dotard in the
decay of his fortunes, but to a proud monarch in the plenitude of his power, in the very heart of his capital,
surrounded by thousands and tens of thousands who trembled at his nod, and would have poured out their blood like water
in his defence — that all this should have been done by a mere handful of adventurers, is a thing too extravagant,
altogether too improbable, for the pages of romance! It is, nevertheless, literally true.

Chapter IV 1520

MONTEZUMA’S DEPORTMENT— HIS LIFE IN THE SPANISH QUARTERS— MEDITATED INSURRECTION— LORD OF TEZCUCO
SEIZED— FURTHER MEASURES OF CORTES

THE settlement of La Villa Rica de Vera Cruz was of the last importance to the Spaniards. It was the port by which
they were to communicate with Spain; the strong post on which they were to retreat in case of disaster, and which was
to bridle their enemies and give security to their allies; the point d’appui for all their operations in the country.
It was of great moment, therefore, that the care of it should be intrusted to proper hands.

A cavalier, named Alonso de Grado, had been sent by Cortes to take the place made vacant by the death of Escalante.
He was a person of greater repute in civil than military matters, and would be more likely, it was thought, to maintain
peaceful relations with the natives, than a person of more belligerant spirit. Cortes made — what was rare with him — a
bad choice. He soon received such accounts of troubles in the settlement from the exactions and negligence of the new
governor, that he resolved to supersede him.

He now gave the command to Gonzalo de Sandoval, a young cavalier, who had displayed through the whole campaign
singular intrepidity united with sagacity and discretion, while the good humour with which he bore every privation, and
his affable manners, made him a favourite with all, privates as well as officers. Sandoval accordingly left the camp
for the coast. Cortes did not mistake his man a second time.

Notwithstanding the actual control exercised by the Spaniards through their royal captive, Cortes felt some
uneasiness, when he reflected that it was in the power of the Indians, at any time, to cut off his communications with
the surrounding country, and hold him a prisoner in the capital. He proposed, therefore, to build two vessels of
sufficient size to transport his forces across the lake, and thus to render himself independent of the causeways.
Montezuma was pleased with the idea of seeing those wonderful “water-houses,” of which he had heard so much, and
readily gave permission to have the timber in the royal forests felled for the purpose. The work was placed under the
direction of Martin Lopez, an experienced ship-builder. Orders were also given to Sandoval to send up from the coast a
supply of cordage, sails, iron, and other necessary materials, which had been judiciously saved on the destruction of
the fleet.

The Aztec emperor, meanwhile, was passing his days in the Spanish quarters in no very different manner from what he
had been accustomed to in his own palace. His keepers were too well aware of the value of their prize, not to do
everything which could make his captivity comfortable, and disguise it from himself. But the chain will gall, though
wreathed with roses. After Montezuma’s breakfast, which was a light meal of fruits or vegetables, Cortes or some of his
officers usually waited on him, to learn if he had any commands for them. He then devoted some time to business. He
gave audience to those of his subjects who had petitions to prefer, or suits to settle. The statement of the party was
drawn up on the hieroglyphic scrolls, which were submitted to a number of counsellors or judges, who assisted him with
their advice on these occasions. Envoys from foreign states or his own remote provinces and cities were also admitted,
and the Spaniards were careful that the same precise and punctilious etiquette should be maintained towards the royal
puppet, as when in the plenitude of his authority.

After business was despatched, Montezuma often amused himself with seeing the Castilian troops go through their
military exercises. He, too, had been a soldier, and in his prouder days led armies in the field. It was very natural
he should take an interest in the novel display of European tactics and discipline. At other times he would challenge
Cortes or his officers to play at some of the national games. A favourite one was called totoloque, played with golden
balls aimed at a target or mark of the same metal. Montezuma usually staked something of value — precious stones or
ingots of gold. He lost with good humour; indeed it was of little consequence whether he won or lost, since he
generally gave away his winnings to his attendants. He had, in truth, a most munificent spirit. His enemies accused him
of avarice. But, if he were avaricious, it could have been only that he might have the more to give away.

Each of the Spaniards had several Mexicans, male and female, who attended to his cooking and various other personal
offices. Cortes, considering that the maintenance of this host of menials was a heavy tax on the royal exchequer,
ordered them to be dismissed, excepting one to be retained for each soldier. Montezuma, on learning this, pleasantly
remonstrated with the general on his careful economy, as unbecoming a royal establishment and, countermanding the
order, caused additional accommodations to be provided for the attendants, and their pay to be doubled.

On another occasion, a soldier purloined some trinkets of gold from the treasure kept in the chamber, which, since
Montezuma’s arrival in the Spanish quarters, had been re-opened. Cortes would have punished the man for the theft, but
the emperor interfering said to him, “Your countrymen are welcome to the gold and other articles, if you will but spare
those belonging to the gods.” Some of the soldiers, making the most of his permission, carried off several hundred
loads of fine cotton to their quarters. When this was represented to Montezuma, he only replied, “What I have once
given I never take back again.”

While thus indifferent to his treasures, he was keenly sensitive to personal slight or insult. When a common soldier
once spoke to him angrily, the tears came into the monarch’s eyes, as it made him feel the true character of his
impotent condition. Cortes, on becoming acquainted with it, was so much incensed, that he ordered the soldier to be
hanged; but, on Montezuma’s intercession, commuted this severe sentence for a flogging. The general was not willing
that any one but himself should treat his royal captive with indignity. Montezuma was desired to procure a further
mitigation of the punishment. But he refused, saying, “that, if a similar insult had been offered by any one of his
subjects to Malinche, he would have resented it in like manner.”

Such instances of disrespect were very rare. Montezuma’s amiable and inoffensive manners, together with his
liberality, the most popular of virtues with the vulgar, made him generally beloved by the Spaniards. The arrogance,
for which he had been so distinguished in his prosperous days, deserted him in his fallen fortunes. His character in
captivity seems to have undergone something of that change which takes place in the wild animals of the forest, when
caged within the walls of the menagerie.

The Indian monarch knew the name of every man in the army, and was careful to discriminate his proper rank. For some
he showed a strong partiality. He obtained from the general a favourite page, named Orteguilla, who, being in constant
attendance on his person, soon learned enough of the Mexican language to be of use to his countrymen. Montezuma took
great pleasure, also, in the society of Velasquez de Leon, the captain of his guard, and Pedro de Alvarado, Tonatiuh,
or “the Sun,” as he was called by the Aztecs, from his yellow hair and sunny countenance. The sunshine, as events
afterwards showed, could sometimes be the prelude to a terrible tempest.

Notwithstanding the care taken to cheat him of the tedium of captivity, the royal prisoner cast a wistful glance now
and then beyond the walls of his residence to the ancient haunts of business or pleasure. He intimated a desire to
offer up his devotions at the great temple, where he was once so constant in his worship. The suggestion startled
Cortes. It was too reasonable, however, for him to object to it, without wholly discarding the appearance which he was
desirous to maintain. But he secured Montezuma’s return by sending an escort with him of a hundred and fifty soldiers
under the same resolute cavaliers who had aided in his seizure. He told him also, that, in case of any attempt to
escape, his life would instantly pay the forfeit. Thus guarded, the Indian prince visited the teocalli, where he was
received with the usual state, and, after performing his devotions, he returned again to his quarters.

It may well be believed that the Spaniards did not neglect the opportunity afforded by his residence with them, of
instilling into him some notions of the Christian doctrine. Fathers Diaz and Olmedo exhausted all their battery of
logic and persuasion to shake his faith in his idols, but in vain. He, indeed, paid a most edifying attention, which
gave promise of better things. But the conferences always closed with the declaration, that “the God of the Christians
was good, but the gods of his own country were the true gods for him.” It is said, however, they extorted a promise
from him, that he would take part in no more human sacrifices. Yet such sacrifices were of daily occurrence in the
great temples of the capital; and the people were too blindly attached to their bloody abominations for the Spaniards
to deem it safe, for the present at least, openly to interfere.

Montezuma showed, also, an inclination to engage in the pleasures of the chase, of which he once was immoderately
fond. He had large forests reserved for the purpose on the other side of the lake. As the Spanish brigantines were now
completed, Cortes proposed to transport him and his suite across the water in them. They were of a good size, strongly
built. The largest was mounted with four falconets, or small guns. It was protected by a gaily-coloured awning
stretched over the deck, and the royal ensign of Castile floated proudly from the mast. On board of this vessel,
Montezuma, delighted with the opportunity of witnessing the nautical skill of the white men, embarked with a train of
Aztec nobles and a numerous guard of Spaniards. A fresh breeze played on the waters, and the vessel soon left behind it
the swarms of light pirogues which darkened their surface. She seemed like a thing of life in the eyes of the
astonished natives, who saw her, as if disdaining human agency, sweeping by with snowy pinions as if on the wings of
the wind, while the thunders from her sides now for the first time breaking on the silence of this “inland sea,” showed
that the beautiful phantom was clothed in terror.

The royal chase was well stocked with game; some of which the emperor shot with arrows, and others were driven by
the numerous attendants into nets. In these woodland exercises, while he ranged over his wild domain, Montezuma seemed
to enjoy again the sweets of liberty. It was but the shadow of liberty, however; as in his quarters, at home, he
enjoyed but the shadow of royalty. At home or abroad, the eye of the Spaniard was always upon him.

But while he resigned himself without a struggle to his inglorious fate, there were others who looked on it with
very different emotions. Among them was his nephew Cacama, lord of Tezcuco, a young man not more than twenty-five years
of age, but who enjoyed great consideration from his high personal qualities, especially his intrepidity of character.
He was the same prince who had been sent by Montezuma to welcome the Spaniards on their entrance into the valley; and,
when the question of their reception was first debated in the council, he had advised to admit them honourably as
ambassadors of a foreign prince, and, if they should prove different from what they pretended, it would be time enough
then to take up arms against them. That time, he thought, had now come.

In a former part of this work, the reader has been made acquainted with the ancient history of the Acolhuan or
Tezcucan monarchy, once the proud rival of the Aztec in power, and greatly its superior in civilisation. Under its last
sovereign, Nezahualpilli, its territory is said to have been grievously clipped by the insidious practices of
Montezuma, who fomented dissensions and insubordination among his subjects. On the death of the Tezcucan prince, the
succession was contested, and a bloody war ensued between his eldest son, Cacama, and an ambitious younger brother,
Ixtlilxochitl. This was followed by a partition of the kingdom, in which the latter chieftain held the mountain
districts north of the capital, leaving the residue to Cacama. Though shorn of a large part of his hereditary domain,
the city was itself so important, that the lord of Tezcuco still held a high rank among the petty princes of the
valley. His capital, at the time of the Conquest, contained, according to Cortes, a hundred and fifty thousand
inhabitants. It was embellished with noble buildings, rivalling those of Mexico itself.

The young Tezcucan chief beheld, with indignation and no slight contempt, the abject condition of his uncle. He
endeavoured to rouse him to manly exertion, but in vain. He then set about forming a league with several of the
neighbouring caciques to rescue his kinsman, and to break the detested yoke of the strangers. He called on the lord of
Iztapalapan, Montezuma’s brother, the lord of Tlacopan, and some others of most authority, all of whom entered heartily
into his views. He then urged the Aztec nobles to join them, but they expressed an unwillingness to take any step not
first sanctioned by the emperor. They entertained, undoubtedly, a profound reverence for their master; but it seems
probable that jealousy of the personal views of Cacama had its influence on their determination. Whatever were their
motives, it is certain, that, by this refusal, they relinquished the best opportunity ever presented for retrieving
their sovereign’s independence, and their own.

These intrigues could not be conducted so secretly as not to reach the ears of Cortes, who, with his characteristic
promptness, would have marched at once on Tezcuco, and trodden out the spark of “rebellion,” before it had time to
burst into a flame. But from this he was dissuaded by Montezuma, who represented that Cacama was a man of resolution,
backed by a powerful force, and not to be put down without a desperate struggle. He consented, therefore, to negotiate,
and sent a message of amicable expostulation to the cacique. He received a haughty answer in return. Cortes rejoined in
a more menacing tone, asserting the supremacy of his own sovereign, the emperor of Castile. To this Cacama replied, “He
acknowledged no such authority; he knew nothing of the Spanish sovereign nor his people, nor did he wish to know
anything of them.” Montezuma was not more successful in his application to Cacama to come to Mexico, and allow him to
mediate his differences with the Spaniards, with whom he assured the prince he was residing as a friend. But the young
lord of Tezcuco was not to be so duped. He understood the position of his uncle, and replied, “that, when he did visit
his capital, it would be to rescue it, as well as the emperor himself, and their common gods, from bondage. He should
come, not with his hand in his bosom, but on his sword — to drive out the detested strangers who had brought such
dishonour on their country.”

Cortes, incensed at this tone of defiance, would again have put himself in motion to punish it, but Montezuma
interposed with his more politic arts. He had several of the Tezcucan nobles, he said, in his pay; and it would be
easy, through their means, to secure Cacama’s person, and thus break up the confederacy at once, without bloodshed. The
maintaining of corps of stipendiaries in the courts of neighbouring princes was a refinement which showed that the
western barbarian understood the science of political intrigue, as well as some of his royal brethren on the other side
of the water.

By the contrivance of these faithless nobles, Cacama was induced to hold a conference, relative to the proposed
invasion, in a villa which overhung the Tezcucan lake, not far from his capital. Like most of the principal edifices,
it was raised so as to admit the entrance of boats beneath it. In the midst of the conference, Cacama was seized by the
conspirators, hurried on board a bark in readiness for the purpose, and transported to Mexico. When brought into
Montezuma’s presence, the high-spirited chief abated nothing of his proud and lofty bearing. He taxed his uncle with
his perfidy, and a pusillanimity so unworthy of his former character, and of the royal house from which he was
descended. By the emperor he was referred to Cortes, who, holding royalty but cheap in an Indian prince, put him in
fetters.

There was at this time in Mexico a brother of Cacama, a stripling much younger than himself. At the instigation of
Cortes, Montezuma, pretending that his nephew had forfeited the sovereignty by his late rebellion, declared him to be
deposed, and appointed Cuicuitzca in his place. The Aztec sovereigns had always been allowed a paramount authority in
questions relating to the succession. But this was a most unwarrantable exercise of it. The Tezcucans acquiesced,
however, with a ready ductility, which showed their allegiance hung but lightly on them, or, what is more probable,
that they were greatly in awe of the Spaniards; and the new prince was welcomed with acclamations to his capital.

Cortes still wanted to get into his hands the other chiefs who had entered into the confederacy with Cacama. This
was no difficult matter. Montezuma’s authority was absolute, everywhere but in his own palace. By his command, the
caciques were seized, each in his own city, and brought in chains to Mexico, where Cortes placed them in strict
confinement with their leader.

He had now triumphed over all his enemies. He had set his foot on the necks of princes; and the great chief of the
Aztec empire was but a convenient tool in his hands for accomplishing his purposes. His first use of this power was to
ascertain the actual resources of the monarchy. He sent several parties of Spaniards, guided by the natives, to explore
the regions where gold was obtained. It was gleaned mostly from the beds of rivers, several hundred miles from the
capital.

His next object was to learn if there existed any good natural harbour for shipping on the Atlantic coast, as the
road of Vera Cruz left no protection against the tempests that at certain seasons swept over these seas. Montezuma
showed him a chart on which the shores of the Mexican Gulf were laid down with tolerable accuracy. Cortes, after
carefully inspecting it, sent a commission, consisting of ten Spaniards, several of them pilots, and some Aztecs, who
descended to Vera Cruz, and made a careful survey of the coast for nearly sixty leagues south of that settlement, as
far as the great river Coatzacualco, which seemed to offer the best, indeed the only, accommodations for a safe and
suitable harbour. A spot was selected as the site of a fortified post, and the general sent a detachment of a hundred
and fifty men, under Velasquez de Leon, to plant a colony there.

He also obtained a grant of an extensive tract of land in the fruitful province of Oaxaca, where he proposed to lay
out a plantation for the Crown. He stocked it with the different kinds of domesticated animals peculiar to the country,
and with such indigenous grains and plants as would afford the best articles for export. He soon had the estate under
such cultivation, that he assured his master, the emperor, Charles the Fifth, it was worth twenty thousand ounces of
gold.

Chapter V 1520

MONTEZUMA SWEARS ALLEGIANCE TO SPAIN— ROYAL TREASURES— THEIR DIVISION— CHRISTIAN WORSHIP IN THE
TEOCALLI— DISCONTENTS OF THE AZTECS

CORTES now felt his authority sufficiently assured to demand from Montezuma a formal recognition of the supremacy of
the Spanish emperor. The Indian monarch had intimated his willingness to acquiesce in this, on their very first
interview. He did not object, therefore, to call together his principal caciques for the purpose. When they were
assembled, he made them an address, briefly stating the object of the meeting. They were all acquainted, he said, with
the ancient tradition, that the great Being, who had once ruled over the land, had declared, on his departure, that he
should return at some future time and resume his sway. That time had now arrived. The white men had come from the
quarter where the sun rises, beyond the ocean, to which the good deity had withdrawn. They were sent by their master to
reclaim the obedience of his ancient subjects. For himself he was ready to acknowledge his authority. “You have been
faithful vassals of mine,” continued Montezuma, “during the many years that I have sat on the throne of my fathers. I
now expect that you will show me this last act of obedience by acknowledging the great king beyond the waters to be
your lord, also, and that you will pay him tribute in the same manner as you have hitherto done to me.” As he
concluded, his voice was stifled by his emotion, and the tears fell fast down his cheeks.

His nobles, many of whom, coming from a distance, had not kept pace with the changes which had been going on in the
capital, were filled with astonishment as they listened to his words, and beheld the voluntary abasement of their
master, whom they had hitherto reverenced as the omnipotent lord of Anahuac. They were the more affected, therefore, by
the sight of his distress. His will, they told him, had always been their law. It should be now; and, if he thought the
sovereign of the strangers was the ancient lord of their country, they were willing to acknowledge him as such still.
The oaths of allegiance were then administered with all due solemnity, attested by the Spaniards present, and a full
record of the proceedings was drawn up by the royal notary, to be sent to Spain. There was something deeply touching in
the ceremony by which an independent and absolute monarch, in obedience less to the dictates of fear than of
conscience, thus relinquished his hereditary rights in favour of an unknown and mysterious power. It even moved those
hard men who were thus unscrupulously availing themselves of the confiding ignorance of the natives; and, though “it
was in the regular way of their own business,” says an old chronicler, “there was not a Spaniard who could look on the
spectacle with a dry eye!”

The rumour of these strange proceedings was soon circulated through the capital and the country. Men read in them
the finger of Providence. The ancient tradition of Quetzalcoatl was familiar to all; and where it had slept scarcely
noticed in the memory, it was now revived with many exaggerated circumstances. It was said to be part of the tradition,
that the royal line of the Aztecs was to end with Montezuma; and his name, the literal signification of which is “sad”
or “angry lord,” was construed into an omen of his evil destiny.

Having thus secured this great feudatory to the crown of Castile, Cortes suggested that it would be well for the
Aztec chiefs to send his sovereign such a gratuity as would conciliate his good will by convincing him of the loyalty
of his new vassals. Montezuma consented that his collectors should visit the principal cities and provinces, attended
by a number of Spaniards, to receive the customary tributes, in the name of the Castilian sovereign. In a few weeks
most of them returned, bringing back large quantities of gold and silver plate, rich stuffs, and the various
commodities in which the taxes were usually paid.

To this store Montezuma added, on his own account, the treasure of Axayacatl, previously noticed, some part of which
had been already given to the Spaniards. It was the fruit of long and careful hoarding — of extortion, it may be — by a
prince who little dreamed of its final destination. When brought into the quarters, the gold alone was sufficient to
make three great heaps. It consisted partly of native grains; part had been melted into bars; but the greatest portion
was in utensils, and various kinds of ornaments and curious toys, together with imitations of birds, insects, or
flowers, executed with uncommon truth and delicacy. There were also quantities of collars, bracelets, wands, fans, and
other trinkets, in which the gold and feather-work were richly powdered with pearls and precious stones. Many of the
articles were even more admirable for the workmanship than for the value of the materials; such, indeed — if we may
take the report of Cortes to one who would himself have soon an opportunity to judge of its veracity, and whom it would
not be safe to trifle with — as no monarch in Europe could boast in his dominions!

Magnificent as it was, Montezuma expressed his regret that the treasure was no larger. But he had diminished it, he
said, by his former gifts to the white men. “Take it,” he added, “Malinche, and let it be recorded in your annals, that
Montezuma sent his present to your master.”

The Spaniards gazed with greedy eyes on the display of riches, now their own, which far exceeded an hitherto seen in
the New World, and fell nothing short of the El Dorado which their glowing imaginations had depicted. It may be that
they felt somewhat rebuked by the contrast which their own avarice presented to the princely munificence of the
barbarian chief. At least, they seemed to testify their sense of his superiority by the respectful homage which they
rendered him, as they poured forth the fulness of their gratitude. They were not so scrupulous, however, as to manifest
any delicacy in appropriating to themselves the donative, a small part of which was to find its way into the royal
coffers. They clamoured loudly for an immediate division of the spoil, which the general would have postponed till the
tributes from the remote provinces had been gathered in. The goldsmiths of Azcapotzalco were sent for to take in pieces
the larger and coarser ornaments, leaving untouched those of more delicate workmanship. Three days were consumed in
this labour, when the heaps of gold were cast into ingots, and stamped with the royal arms.

Some difficulty occurred in the division of the treasure, from the want of weights, which, strange as it appears,
considering their advancement in the arts, were, as already observed, unknown to the Aztecs. The deficiency was soon
supplied by the Spaniards, however, with scales and weights of their own manufacture, probably not the most exact. With
the aid of these they ascertained the value of the royal fifth to be thirty-two thousand and four hundred pesos de oro.
Diaz swells it to nearly four times that amount. But their desire of securing the emperor’s favour makes it improbable
that the Spaniards should have defrauded the exchequer of any part of its due; while, as Cortes was responsible for the
sum admitted in his letter, he would be still less likely to overstate it. His estimate may be received as the true
one.

The whole amounted, therefore, to one hundred and sixty-two thousand pesos de oro, independently of the fine
ornaments and jewellery, the value of which Cortes computes at five hundred thousand ducats more. There were, besides,
five hundred marks of silver, chiefly in plate, drinking cups, and other articles of luxury. The inconsiderable
quantity of the silver, as compared with the gold, forms a singular contrast to the relative proportions of the two
metals since the occupation of the country by the Europeans. The whole amount of the treasure, reduced to our own
currency, and making allowance for the change in the value of gold since the beginning of the sixteenth century, was
about six million three hundred thousand dollars, or one million four hundred and seventeen thousand pounds sterling; a
sum large enough to show the incorrectness of the popular notion that little or no wealth was found in Mexico. It was,
indeed, small in comparison with that obtained by the conquerors in Peru. But few European monarchs of that day could
boast a larger treasure in their coffers. Many of them, indeed, could boast little or nothing in their coffers.
Maximilian of Germany, and the more prudent Ferdinand of Spain, left scarcely enough to defray their funeral
expenses.

The division of the spoil was a work of some difficulty. A perfectly equal division of it among the Conquerors would
have given them more than three thousand pounds sterling a-piece; a magnificent booty! But one fifth was to be deducted
for the crown. An equal portion was reserved for the general, pursuant to the tenor of his commission. A large sum was
then allowed to indemnify him and the governor of Cuba for the charges of the expedition and the loss of the fleet, The
garrison of Vera Cruz was also to be provided for. Ample compensation was made to the principal cavaliers. The cavalry,
arquebusiers, and crossbowmen, each received double pay. So that when the turn of the common soldiers came, there
remained not more than a hundred pesos de oro for each; a sum so insignificant, in comparison with their expectations,
that several refused to accept it.

Loud murmurs now rose among the men. “Was it for this,” they said, “that we left our homes and families, perilled
our lives, submitted to fatigue and famine, and all for so contemptible a pittance! Better to have stayed in Cuba, and
contented ourselves with the gains of a safe and easy traffic. When we gave up our share of the gold at Vera Cruz, it
was on the assurance that we should be amply requited in Mexico. We have indeed, found the riches we expected; but no
sooner seen, than they are snatched from us by the very men who pledged us their faith!” The malcontents even went so
far as to accuse their leaders of appropriating to themselves several of the richest ornaments, before the partition
had been made; an accusation that receives some countenance from a dispute which arose between Mexia, the treasurer for
the crown, and Velasquez de Leon, a relation of the governor, and a favourite of Cortes. The treasurer accused this
cavalier of purloining certain pieces of plate before they were submitted to the royal stamp. From words the parties
came to blows. They were good swordsmen; several wounds were given on both sides, and the affair might have ended
fatally, but for the interference of Cortes, who placed both under arrest.

He then used all his authority and insinuating eloquence to calm the passions of his men. It was a delicate crisis.
He was sorry, he said, to see them so unmindful of the duty of loyal soldiers, and cavaliers of the Cross, as to brawl
like common banditti over their booty. The division, he assured them, had been made on perfectly fair and equitable
principles. As to his own share, it was no more than was warranted by his commission. Yet, if they thought it too much,
he was willing to forego his just claims, and divide with the poorest soldier. Gold, however welcome, was not the chief
object of his ambition. If it were theirs, they should still reflect, that the present treasure was little in
comparison with what awaited them hereafter; for had they not the whole country and its mines at their disposal? It was
only necessary that they should not give an opening to the enemy, by their discord, to circumvent and to crush them.
With these honeyed words, of which he had good store for all fitting occasions, says an old soldier, for whose benefit,
in part, they were intended, he succeeded in calming the storm for the present; while in private he took more effectual
means, by presents judiciously administered, to mitigate the discontents of the importunate and refractory. And,
although there were a few of more tenacious temper, who treasured this in their memories against a future day, the
troops soon returned to their usual subordination. This was one of those critical conjunctures which taxed all the
address and personal authority of Cortes. He never shrunk from them, but on such occasions was true to himself. At Vera
Cruz, he had persuaded his followers to give up what was but the earnest of future gains. Here he persuaded them to
relinquish these gains themselves. It was snatching the prey from the very jaws of the lion. Why did he not turn and
rend him?

To many of the soldiers, indeed, it mattered little whether their share of the booty were more or less. Gaming is a
deep-rooted passion in the Spaniard, and the sudden acquisition of riches furnished both the means and the motive for
its indulgence. Cards were easily made out of old parchment drumheads, and in a few days most of the prize-money,
obtained with so much toil and suffering, had changed hands, and many of the improvident soldiers closed the campaign
as poor as they had commenced it. Others, it is true, more prudent, followed the example of their officers, who, with
the aid of the royal jewellers, converted their gold into chains, services of plate, and other portable articles of
ornament or use.

Cortes seemed now to have accomplished the great objects of the expedition. The Indian monarch had declared himself
the feudatory of the Spanish. His authority, his revenues, were at the disposal of the general. The conquest of Mexico
seemed to be achieved, and that without a blow. But it was far from being achieved. One important step yet remained to
be taken, towards which the Spaniards had hitherto made little progress — the conversion of the natives. With all the
exertions of Father Olmedo, backed by the polemic talents of the general, neither Montezuma nor his subjects showed any
disposition to abjure the faith of their fathers. The bloody exercises of their religion, on the contrary, were
celebrated with all the usual circumstance and pomp of sacrifice before the eyes of the Spaniards.

Unable further to endure these abominations, Cortes, attended by several of his cavaliers, waited on Montezuma. He
told the emperor that the Christians could no longer consent to have the services of their religion shut up within the
narrow walls of the garrison. They wished to spread its light far abroad, and to open to the people a full
participation in the blessings of Christianity. For this purpose they requested that the great teocalli should be
delivered up, as a fit place where their worship might be conducted in the presence of the whole city.

Montezuma listened to the proposal with visible consternation. Amidst all his troubles he had leaned for support on
his own faith, and, indeed, it was in obedience to it that he had shown such deference to the Spaniards as the
mysterious messenger predicted by the oracles. “Why,” said he, “Malinche, why will you urge matters to an extremity,
that must surely bring down the vengeance of our gods, and stir up an insurrection among my people, who will never
endure this profanation of their temples?”

Cortes, seeing how greatly he was moved, made a sign to his officers to withdraw. When left alone with the
interpreters, he told the emperor that he would use his influence to moderate the zeal of his followers, and persuade
them to be contented with one of the sanctuaries of the teocalli. If that were not granted, they should be obliged to
take it by force, and to roll down the images of his false deities in the face of the city. “We fear not for our
lives,” he added, “for, though our numbers are few, the arm of the true God is over us.” Montezuma, much agitated, told
him that he would confer with the priests.

The result of the conference was favourable to the Spaniards, who were allowed to occupy one of the sanctuaries as a
Place of worship. The tidings spread great joy throughout the camp. They might now go forth in open day and publish
their religion to the assembled capital. No time was lost in availing themselves of the permission. The sanctuary was
cleansed of its disgusting impurities An altar was raised, surmounted by a crucifix and the image of the Virgin.
Instead of the gold and jewels which blazed on the neighbouring pagan shrine, its walls were decorated with fresh
garlands of flowers; and an old soldier was stationed to watch over the chapel, and guard it from intrusion.

When these arrangements were completed, the whole army moved in solemn procession up the winding ascent of the
pyramid. Entering the sanctuary, and clustering round its portals, they listened reverently to the service of the mass,
as it was performed by the fathers Olmedo and Diaz. And as the beautiful Te Deum rose towards heaven, Cortes and his
soldiers, kneeling on the ground, with tears streaming from their eyes, poured forth their gratitude to the Almighty
for this glorious triumph of the Cross.

It was a striking spectacle — that of these rude warriors lifting up their orisons on the summit of this mountain
temple, in the very capital of heathendom, on the spot especially dedicated to its unhallowed mysteries. Side by side,
the Spaniard and the Aztec knelt down in prayer; and the Christian hymn mingled its sweet tones of love and mercy with
the wild chant raised by the Indian priest in honour of the war-god of Anahuac! It was an unnatural union, and could
not long abide.

A nation will endure any outrage sooner than that on its religion. This is an outrage both on its principles and its
prejudices; on the ideas instilled into it from childhood, which have strengthened with its growth, until they become a
part of its nature — which have to do with its highest interests here, and with the dread hereafter. Any violence to
the religious sentiment touches all alike, the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the noble and the plebeian.
Above all, it touches the priests, whose personal consideration rests on that of their religion; and who, in a
semi-civilised state of society, usually hold an unbounded authority. Thus it was with the Brahmins of India, the Magi
of Persia, the Roman Catholic clergy in the Dark Ages, the priests of ancient Egypt and Mexico.

The people had borne with patience all the injuries and affronts hitherto put on them by the Spaniards. They had
seen their sovereign dragged as a captive from his own palace; his ministers butchered before his eyes; his treasures
seized and appropriated; himself in a manner deposed from his royal supremacy. All this they had seen without a
struggle to prevent it. But the profanation of their temples touched a deeper feeling, of which the priesthood were not
slow to take advantage.

The first intimation of this change of feeling was gathered from Montezuma himself. Instead of his usual
cheerfulness, he appeared grave and abstracted, and instead of seeking, as he was wont, the society of the Spaniards,
seemed rather to shun it. It was noticed, too, that conferences were more frequent between him and the nobles, and
especially the priests. His little page, Orteguilla, who had now picked up a tolerable acquaintance with the Aztec,
contrary to Montezuma’s usual practice, was not allowed to attend him at these meetings. These circumstances could not
fail to awaken most uncomfortable apprehensions in the Spaniards.

Not many days elapsed, however, before Cortes received an invitation, or rather a summons, from the emperor, to
attend him in his apartment. The general went with some feelings of anxiety and distrust, taking with him Olid, captain
of the guard, and two or three other trusty cavaliers. Montezuma received them with cold civility, and, turning to the
general, told him that all his predictions had come to pass. The gods of his country had been offended by the violation
of their temples. They had threatened the priests that they would forsake the city, if the sacrilegious strangers were
not driven from it, or rather sacrificed on the altars, in expiation of their crimes. The monarch assured the
Christians, it was from regard to their safety that he communicated this; and, “if you have any regard for it
yourselves,” he concluded, “you will leave the country without delay. I have only to raise my finger, and every Aztec
in the land will rise in arms against you.” There was no reason to doubt his sincerity; for Montezuma, whatever evils
had been brought on him by the white men, held them in reverence as a race more highly gifted than his own, while for
several, as we have seen, he had conceived an attachment, flowing, no doubt, from their personal attentions and
deferences to himself.

Cortes was too much master of his feelings to show how far he was startled by this intelligence. He replied with
admirable coolness, that he should regret much to leave the capital so precipitately, when he had no vessels to take
him from the country. If it were not for this, there could be no obstacle to his leaving it at once. He should also
regret another step to which he should be driven, if he quitted it under these circumstances — that of taking the
emperor along with him.

Montezuma was evidently troubled by this last suggestion. He inquired how long it would take to build the vessels,
and finally consented to send a sufficient number of workmen to the coast, to act under the orders of the Spaniards;
meanwhile, he would use his authority to restrain the impatience of the people, under the assurance that the white men
would leave the land, when the means for it were provided. He kept his word. A large body of Aztec artisans left the
capital with the most experienced Castilian ship-builders, and, descending to Vera Cruz, began at once to fell the
timber and build a sufficient number of ships to transport the Spaniards back to their own country. The work went
forward with apparent alacrity. But those who had the direction of it, it is said, received private instructions from
the general to interpose as many delays as possible, in hopes of receiving in the meantime such reinforcements from
Europe as would enable him to maintain his ground.

The whole aspect of things was now changed in the Castilian quarters. Instead of the security and repose in which
the troops had of late indulged, they felt a gloomy apprehension of danger, not the less oppressive to the spirits,
that it was scarcely visible to the eye; — like the faint speck just descried above the horizon by the voyager in the
tropics, to the common gaze seeming only a summer cloud, but which to the experienced mariner bodes the coming of the
hurricane. Every precaution that prudence could devise was taken to meet it. The soldier, as he threw himself on his
mats for repose, kept on his armour. He ate, drank, slept, with his weapons by his side. His horse stood ready
caparisoned, day and night, with the bridle hanging at the saddle-bow. The guns were carefully planted, so as to
command the great avenues. The sentinels were doubled, and every man, of whatever rank, took his turn in mounting
guard. The garrison was in a state of siege. Such was the uncomfortable position of the army when, in the beginning of
May, 1520, six months after their arrival in the capital, tidings came from the coast, which gave greater alarm to
Cortes, than even the menaced insurrection of the Aztecs.

Chapter VI 1520

FATE OF CORTES’ EMISSARIES— PROCEEDINGS IN THE CASTILIAN COURT— PREPARATIONS OF VELASQUEZ— NARVAEZ
LANDS IN MEXICO— POLITIC CONDUCT OF CORTES— HE LEAVES THE CAPITAL

BEFORE explaining the nature of the tidings alluded to in the preceding chapter, it will be necessary to cast a
glance over some of the transactions of an earlier period. The vessel, which, as the reader may remember, bore the
envoys Puertocarrero and Montejo with the despatches from Vera Cruz, after touching, contrary to orders, at the
northern coast of Cuba, and spreading the news of the late discoveries, held on its way uninterrupted towards Spain,
and early in October, 1519, reached the little port of San Lucar. Great was the sensation caused by her arrival and the
tidings which she brought; a sensation scarcely inferior to that created by the original discovery of Columbus. For
now, for the first time, all the magnificent anticipations formed of the New World seemed destined to be realised.

Unfortunately, there was a person in Seville, at this time, named Benito Martin, chaplain of Velasquez, the governor
of Cuba. No sooner did this man learn the arrival of the envoys, and the particulars of their story, than he lodged a
complaint with the Casa de Contratacion — the Royal India House — charging those on board the vessel with mutiny and
rebellion against the authorities of Cuba, as well as with treason to the crown. In consequence of his representations,
the ship was taken possession of by the public officers, and those on board were prohibited from moving their own
effects, or anything else from her. The envoys were not even allowed the funds necessary for the expenses of the
voyage, nor a considerable sum remitted by Cortes to his father, Don Martin. In this embarrassment they had no
alternative but to present themselves, as speedily as possible, before the emperor, deliver the letters with which they
had been charged by the colony, and seek redress for their own grievances. They first sought out Martin Cortes,
residing at Medellin, and with him made the best of their way to court.

Charles the Fifth was then on his first visit to Spain after his accession. It was not a long one; long enough,
however, to disgust his subjects, and, in a great degree, to alienate their affections. He had lately received
intelligence of his election to the imperial crown of Germany. From that hour, his eyes were turned to that quarter.
His stay in the Peninsula was prolonged only that he might raise supplies for appearing with splendour on the great
theatre of Europe. Every act showed too plainly that the diadem of his ancestors was held lightly in comparison with
the imperial bauble in which neither his countrymen nor his own posterity could have the slightest interest. The
interest was wholly personal.

Contrary to established usage, he had summoned the Castilian cortes to meet at Compostella, a remote town in the
north, which presented no other advantage than that of being near his place of embarkation. On his way thither he
stopped some time at Tordesillas, the residence of his unhappy mother, Joanna “The Mad.” It was here that the envoys
from Vera Cruz presented themselves before him, in March, 1520. At nearly the same time, the treasures brought over by
them reached the court, where they excited unbounded admiration. Hitherto, the returns from the New World had been
chiefly in vegetable products, which, if the surest, are also the. slowest, sources of wealth. Of gold they had as yet
seen but little, and that in its natural state, or wrought into the rudest trinkets. The courtiers gazed with
astonishment on the large masses of the precious metal, and the delicate manufacture of the various articles,
especially of the richly-tinted feather-work. And, as they listened to the accounts, written and oral, of the great
Aztec empire, they felt assured that the Castilian ships had, at length, reached the golden Indies, which hitherto had
seemed to recede before them.

In this favourable mood there is little doubt the monarch would have granted the petition of the envoys, and
confirmed the irregular proceedings of the Conquerors, but for the opposition of a person who held the highest office
in the Indian department. This was Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca, formerly dean of Seville, now bishop of Burgos. He was a
man of noble family, and had been intrusted with the direction of the colonial concerns, on the discovery of the New
World. On the establishment of the Royal Council of the Indies by Ferdinand the Catholic, he had been made its
president, and had occupied that post ever since. His long continuance in a position of great importance and difficulty
is evidence of capacity for business. It was no uncommon thing in that age to find ecclesiastics in high civil, and
even military employments. Fonseca appears to have been an active, efficient person, better suited to a secular than to
a religious vocation. He had, indeed, little that was religious in his temper; quick to take offence, and slow to
forgive. His resentments seem to have been nourished and perpetuated like a part of his own nature. Unfortunately his
peculiar position enabled him to display them towards some of the most illustrious men of his time. From pique at some
real or fancied slight from Columbus, he had constantly thwarted the plans of the great navigator. He had shown the
same unfriendly feeling towards the admiral’s son, Diego, the heir of his honours; and he now, and from this time
forward, showed a similar spirit towards the Conqueror of Mexico. The immediate cause of this was his own personal
relations with Velasquez, to whom a near relative was betrothed.

Through this prelate’s representations, Charles, instead of a favourable answer to the envoys, postponed his
decision till he should arrive at Coruna, the place of embarkation. But here he was much pressed by the troubles which
his impolitic conduct had raised, as well as by preparations for his voyage. The transaction of the colonial business,
which, long postponed, had greatly accumulated on his hands, was reserved for the last week in Spain. But the affairs
of the “young admiral” consumed so large a portion of this, that he had no time to give to those of Cortes; except,
indeed, to instruct the board at Seville to remit to the envoys so much of their funds as was required to defray the
charges of the voyage. On the 16th of May, 1520, the impatient monarch bade adieu to his distracted kingdom, without
one attempt to settle the dispute between his belligerent vassals in the New World, and without an effort to promote
the magnificent enterprise which was to secure to him the possession of an empire. What a contrast to the policy of his
illustrious predecessors, Ferdinand and Isabella!

The governor of Cuba, meanwhile, without waiting for support from home, took measures for redress into his own
hands. We have seen, in a preceding chapter, how deeply he was moved by the reports of the proceedings of Cortes and of
the treasures which his vessel was bearing to Spain. Rage, mortification, disappointed avarice, distracted his mind. He
could not forgive himself for trusting the affair to such hands. On the very week in which Cortes had parted from him
to take charge of the fleet, a capitulation had been signed by Charles the Fifth, conferring on Velasquez the title of
adelantado, with great augmentation of his original powers. The governor resolved, without loss of time, to send such a
force to the Aztec coast, as should enable him to assert his new authority to its full extent, and to take vengeance on
his rebellious officer. He began his preparations as early as October. At first, he proposed to assume the command in
person. But his unwieldy size, which disqualified him for the fatigues incident to such an expedition, or, according to
his own account, tenderness for his Indian subjects, then wasted by an epidemic, induced him to devolve the command on
another.

The person whom he selected was a Castilian hidalgo, named Panfilo de Narvaez. He had assisted Velasquez in the
reduction of Cuba, where his conduct cannot be wholly vindicated from the charge of inhumanity, which too often
attaches to the early Spanish adventurers. From that time he continued to hold important posts under the government,
and was a decided favourite with Velasquez. He was a man of some military capacity, though negligent and lax in his
discipline. He possessed undoubted courage, but it was mingled with an arrogance, or rather overweening confidence in
his own powers, which made him deaf to the suggestions of others more sagacious than himself. He was altogether
deficient in that prudence and calculating foresight demanded in a leader who was to cope with an antagonist like
Cortes.

The governor and his lieutenant were unwearied in their efforts to assemble an army. They visited every considerable
town in the island, fitting out vessels, laying in stores and ammunition, and encouraging volunteers to enlist by
liberal promises. But the most effectual bounty was the assurance of the rich treasures that awaited them in the golden
regions of Mexico. So confident were they in this expectation, that all classes and ages vied with one another in
eagerness to embark in the expedition, until it seemed as if the whole white population would desert the island, and
leave it to its primitive occupants.

The report of these proceedings soon spread through the islands, and drew the attention of the Royal Audience of St.
Domingo. This body was intrusted, at that time, not only with the highest judicial authority in the colonies, but with
a civil jurisdiction, which, as “the Admiral” complained, encroached on his own rights. The tribunal saw with alarm the
proposed expedition of Velasquez, which, whatever might be its issue in regard to the parties, could not fail to
compromise the interests of the crown. They chose accordingly one of their number, the licentiate Ayllon, a man of
prudence and resolution, and despatched him to Cuba, with instructions to interpose his authority, and stay, if
possible, the proceedings of Velasquez.

On his arrival, he found the governor in the western part of the island, busily occupied in getting the fleet ready
for sea. The licentiate explained to him the purport of his mission, and the views entertained of the proposed
enterprise by the Royal Audience. The conquest of a powerful country like Mexico required the whole force of the
Spaniards, and, if one half were employed against the other, nothing but ruin could come of it. It was the governor’s
duty, as a good subject, to forego all private animosities, and to sustain those now engaged in the great work by
sending them the necessary supplies. He might, indeed, proclaim his own powers, and demand obedience to them. But, if
this were refused, he should leave the determination of his dispute to the authorised tribunals, and employ his
resources in prosecuting discovery in another direction, instead of hazarding all by hostilities with his rival.

This admonition, however sensible and salutary, was not at all to the taste of the governor. He professed, indeed,
to have no intention of coming to hostilities with Cortes. He designed only to assert his lawful jurisdiction over
territories discovered under his own auspices. At the same time he denied the right of Ayllon or of the Royal Audience
to interfere in the matter. Narvaez was still more refractory; and, as the fleet was now ready, proclaimed his
intention to sail in a few hours. In this state of things, the licentiate, baffled in his first purpose of staying the
expedition, determined to accompany it in person, that he might prevent, if possible, by his presence, an open rupture
between the parties.

The squadron consisted of eighteen vessels, large and small. It carried nine hundred men, eighty of whom were
cavalry, eighty more arquebusiers, one hundred and fifty crossbowmen, with a number of heavy guns, and a large supply
of ammunition and military stores. There were, besides, a thousand Indians, natives of the island, who went probably in
a menial capacity. So gallant an armada — with one exception, the great fleet under Ovando, 1501, in which Cortes had
intended to embark for the New World — never before rode in the Indian seas. None to compare with it had ever been
fitted out in the Western World.

Leaving Cuba early in March, 1520, Narvaez held nearly the same course as Cortes, and running down what was then
called the “Island of Yucatan,” after a heavy tempest, in which some of his smaller vessels foundered, anchored, April
23, off San Juan de Ulua. It was the place where Cortes also had first landed; the sandy waste covered by the present
city of Vera Cruz.

Here the commander met with a Spaniard, one of those sent by the general from Mexico, to ascertain the resources of
the country, especially its mineral products. This man came on board the fleet, and from him the Spaniards gathered the
particulars of all that had occurred since the departure of the envoys from Vera Cruz — the march into the interior,
the bloody battles with the Tlascalans, the occupation of Mexico, the rich treasures found in it, and the seizure of
the monarch, by means of which, concluded the soldier, “Cortes rules over the land like its own sovereign, so that a
Spaniard may travel unarmed from one end of the country to the other, without insult or injury.” His audience listened
to this marvellous report with speechless amazement, and the loyal indignation of Narvaez waxed stronger and stronger,
as he learned the value of the prize which had been snatched from his employer.

He now openly proclaimed his intention to march against Cortes, and punish him for his rebellion. He made this vaunt
so loudly, that the natives who had flocked in numbers to the camp, which was soon formed on shore, clearly
comprehended that the new comers were not friends, but enemies, of the preceding. Narvaez determined, also — though in
opposition to the counsel of the Spaniard, who quoted the example of Cortes — to establish a settlement on this
unpromising spot: and he made the necessary arrangements to organise a municipality. He was informed by the soldier of
the existence of the neighbouring colony at Villa Rica, commanded by Sandoval, and consisting of a few invalids, who,
he was assured, would surrender on the first summons. Instead of marching against the place, however, he determined to
send a peaceful embassy to display his powers, and demand the submission of the garrison.

These successive steps gave serious displeasure to Ayllon, who saw they must lead to inevitable collision with
Cortes. But it was in vain he remonstrated, and threatened to lay the proceedings of Narvaez before the government. The
latter, chafed by his continued opposition and sour rebuke, determined to rid himself of a companion who acted as a spy
on his movements. He caused him to be seized and sent back to Cuba. The licentiate had the address to persuade the
captain of the vessel to change her destination for St. Domingo; and, when he arrived there, a formal report of his
proceedings, exhibiting in strong colours the disloyal conduct of the governor and his lieutenant, was prepared and
despatched by the Royal Audience to Spain.

Sandoval, meanwhile, had not been inattentive to the movements of Narvaez. From the time of his first appearance on
the coast, that vigilant officer, distrusting the object of the armament, had kept his eye on him. No sooner was he
apprised of the landing of the Spaniards, than the commander of Villa Rica sent off his few disabled soldiers to a
place of safety in the neighbourhood. He then put his works in the best posture of defence that he could, and prepared
to maintain the place to the last extremity. His men promised to stand by him, and, the more effectually to fortify the
resolution of any who might falter, he ordered a gallows to be set up in a conspicuous part of the town! The constancy
of his men was not put to the trial.

The only invaders of the place were a priest, a notary, and four other Spaniards, selected for the mission already
noticed, by Narvaez. The ecclesiastic’s name was Guevara. On coming before Sandoval, he made him a formal address, in
which he pompously enumerated the services and claims of Velasquez, taxed Cortes and his adherents with rebellion, and
demanded of Sandoval to tender his submission as a loyal subject to the newly constituted authority of Narvaez.

The commander of La Villa Rica was so much incensed at this unceremonious mention of his companions in arms, that he
assured the reverend envoy, that nothing but respect for his cloth saved him from the chastisement he merited. Guevara
now waxed wroth in his turn, and called on the notary to read the proclamation. But Sandoval interposed, promising that
functionary, that, if he attempted to do so, without first producing a warrant of his authority from the crown, he
should be soundly flogged. Guevara lost all command of himself at this, and stamping on the ground repeated his orders
in a more peremptory tone than before. Sandoval was not a man of many words; he simply remarked, that the instrument
should be read to the general himself in Mexico. At the same time, he ordered his men to procure a number of sturdy
tamanes, or Indian porters, on whose backs the unfortunate priest and his companions were bound like so many bales of
goods. They were then placed under a guard of twenty Spaniards, and the whole caravan took its march for the capital.
Day and night they travelled, stopping only to obtain fresh relays of carriers; and as they passed through populous
towns, forests and cultivated fields, vanishing as soon as seen, the Spaniards, bewildered by the strangeness of the
scene, as well as of their novel mode of conveyance, hardly knew whether they were awake or in a dream. In this way, at
the end of the fourth day, they reached the Tezcucan lake in view of the Aztec capital.

Its inhabitants had already been made acquainted with the fresh arrival of white men on the coast. Indeed, directly
on their landing, intelligence had been communicated to Montezuma, who is said does not seem probable) to have
concealed it some days from Cortes. At length, inviting him to an interview, he told him there was no longer any
obstacle to his leaving the country, as a fleet was ready for him. To the inquiries of the astonished general,
Montezuma replied by pointing to a hieroglyphical map sent him from the coast, on which the ships, the Spaniards
themselves, and their whole equipment, were minutely delineated. Cortes, suppressing all emotions but those of
pleasure, exclaimed, “Blessed be the Redeemer for his mercies!” On returning to his quarters, the tidings were received
by the troops with loud shouts, the firing of cannon, and other demonstrations of joy. They hailed the new comers as a
reinforcement from Spain. Not so their commander. From the first, he suspected them to be sent by his enemy, the
governor of Cuba. He communicated his suspicions to his officers, through whom they gradually found their way among the
men. The tide of joy was instantly checked. Alarming apprehensions succeeded, as they dwelt on the probability of this
suggestion, and on the strength of the invaders. Yet their constancy did not desert them; and they pledged themselves
to remain true to their cause, and, come what might, to stand by their leader. It was one of those occasions, that
proved the entire influence which Cortes held over these wild adventurers. All doubts were soon dispelled by the
arrival of the prisoners from Villa Rica.

One of the convoy, leaving the party in the suburbs, entered the city, and delivered a letter to the general from
Sandoval, acquainting him with all the particulars. Cortes instantly sent to the prisoners, ordered them to be
released, and furnished them with horses to make their entrance into the capital — a more creditable conveyance than
the backs of tamanes. On their arrival, he received them with marked courtesy, apologised for the rude conduct of his
officers, and seemed desirous by the most assiduous attentions to soothe the irritation of their minds. He showed his
good will still further by lavishing presents on Guevara and his associates, until he gradually wrought such a change
in their dispositions, that, from enemies, he converted them into friends, and drew forth many important particulars
respecting not merely the designs of their leader, but the feelings of his army. The soldiers, in general, they said,
far from desiring a rupture with those of Cortes, would willingly co-operate with them, were it not for their
commander. They had no feelings of resentment to gratify. Their object was gold. The personal influence of Narvaez was
not great, and his arrogance and penurious temper had already gone far to alienate from him the affections of his
followers. These hints were not lost on the general.

He addressed a letter to his rival in the most conciliatory terms. He besought him not to proclaim their animosity
to the world, and, by kindling a spirit of insubordination in the natives, unsettle all that had been so far secured. A
violent collision must be prejudicial even to the victor, and might be fatal to both. It was only in union that they
could look for success. He was ready to greet Narvaez as a brother in arms, to share with him the fruits of conquest,
and, if he could produce a royal commission, to submit to his authority. Cortes well knew he had no such commission to
show.

Soon after the departure of Guevara and his comrades, the general determined to send a special envoy of his own. The
person selected for this delicate office was Father Olmedo, who, through the campaign, had shown a practical good
sense, and a talent for affairs, not always to be found in persons of his spiritual calling. He was intrusted with
another epistle to Narvaez, of similar import with the preceding. Cortes wrote, also, to the licentiate Ayllon, with
whose departure he was not acquainted, and to Andres de Duero, former secretary of Velasquez, and his own friend, who
had come over in the present fleet. Olmedo was instructed to converse with these persons in private, as well as with
the principal officers and soldiers, and, as far as possible, to infuse into them a spirit of accommodation. To give
greater weight to his arguments, he was furnished with a liberal supply of gold.

During this time, Narvaez had abandoned his original design of planting a colony on the sea-coast, and had crossed
the country to Cempoalla, where he had taken up his quarters. He was here when Guevara returned, and presented the
letter of Cortes.

Narvaez glanced over it with a look of contempt, which was changed into one of stern displeasure, as his envoy
enlarged on the resources and formidable character of his rival, counselling him, by all means, to accept his proffers
of amity. A different effect was produced on the troops, who listened with greedy ears to the accounts given of Cortes,
his frank and liberal manners, which they involuntarily contrasted with those of their own commander, the wealth in his
camp, where the humblest private could stake his ingot and chain of gold at play, where all revelled in plenty, and the
life of the soldier seemed to be one long holiday. Guevara had been admitted only to the sunny side of the picture.

The impression made by these accounts was confirmed by the presence of Olmedo. The ecclesiastic delivered his
missives, in like manner, to Narvaez, who ran through their contents with feelings of anger which found vent in the
most opprobrious invectives against his rival; while one of his captains, named Salvatierra, openly avowed his
intention to cut off the rebel’s ears, and broil them for his breakfast! Such impotent sallies did not alarm the
stout-hearted friar, who soon entered into communication with many of the officers and soldiers, whom he found better
inclined to an accommodation. His insinuating eloquence, backed by his liberal largesses, gradually opened a way into
their hearts, and a party was formed under the very eye of their chief, better affected to his rival’s interests than
to his own. The intrigue could not be conducted so secretly as wholly to elude the suspicions of Narvaez, who would
have arrested Olmedo and placed him under confinement, but for the interposition of Duero. He put a stop to his further
machinations by sending him back again to his master. But the poison was left to do its work.

Narvaez made the same vaunt as at his landing, of his design to march against Cortes and apprehend him as a traitor.
The Cempoallans learned with astonishment that their new guests, though the countrymen, were enemies of their former.
Narvaez also proclaimd his intention to release Montezuma from captivity, and restore him to his throne. It is said he
received a rich present from the Aztec emperor, who entered into a correspondence with him. That Montezuma should have
treated him with his usual munificence, supposing him to be the friend of Cortes, is very probable. But that he should
have entered into a secret communication, hostile to the general’s interests, is too repugnant to the whole tenor of
his conduct, to be lightly admitted.

These proceedings did not escape the watchful eye of Sandoval. He gathered the particulars partly from deserters,
who fled to Villa Rica, and partly from his own agents, who in the disguise of natives mingled in the enemy’s camp. He
sent a full account of them to Cortes, acquainted him with the growing defection of the Indians, and urged him to take
speedy measures for the defence of Villa Rica, if he would not see it fall into the enemy’s hands. The general felt
that it was time to act.

Yet the selection of the course to be pursued was embarrassing in the extreme. If he remained in Mexico and awaited
there the attack of his rival, it would give the latter time to gather round him the whole forces of the empire,
including those of the capital itself, all willing, no doubt, to serve under the banners of a chief who proposed the
liberation of their master. The odds were too great to be hazarded.

If he marched against Narvaez, he must either abandon the city and the emperor, the fruit of all his toils and
triumphs, or, by leaving a garrison to hold them in awe, must cripple his strength, already far too weak to cope with
that of his adversary. Yet on this latter course he decided. He trusted less, perhaps, to an open encounter of arms,
than to the influence of his personal address and previous intrigues, to bring about an amicable arrangement. But he
prepared himself for either result.

In the preceding chapter, it was mentioned that Velasquez de Leon was sent with a hundred and fifty men to plant a
colony on one of the great rivers emptying into the Mexican Gulf. Cortes, on learning the arrival of Narvaez, had
despatched a messenger to his officer to acquaint him with the fact, and to arrest his further progress. But Velasquez
had already received notice of it from Narvaez himself, who, in a letter written soon after his landing, had adjured
him in the name of his kinsman, the governor of Cuba, to quit the banners of Cortes, and come over to him. That
officer, however, had long since buried the feelings of resentment which he had once nourished against his general, to
whom he was now devotedly attached, and who had honoured him throughout the campaign with particular regard. Cortes had
early seen the importance of securing this cavalier to his interests. Without waiting for orders, Velasquez abandoned
his expedition, and commenced a countermarch on the capital, when he received the general’s commands to wait him in
Cholula.

Cortes had also sent to the distant province of Chinantla, situated far to the south-east of Cholula, for a
reinforcement of two thousand natives. They were a bold race, hostile to the Mexicans, and had offered their services
to him since his residence in the metropolis. They used a long spear in battle, longer, indeed, than that borne by the
Spanish or German infantry. Cortes ordered three hundred of their double-headed lances to be made for him, and to be
tipped with copper instead of itztli. With this formidable weapon he proposed to foil the cavalry of his enemy.

The command of the garrison, in his absence, he instrusted to Pedro de Alvarado — the Tonatiuh of the Mexicans — a
man possessed of many commanding qualities, of an intrepid, though somewhat arrogant spirit, and his warm personal
friend. He inculcated on him moderation and forbearance. He was to keep a close watch on Montezuma, for on the
possession of the royal person rested all their authority in the land. He was to show him the deference alike due to
his high station, and demanded by policy. He was to pay uniform respect to the usages and the prejudices of the people;
remembering that though his small force would be large enough to overawe them in times of quiet, yet, should they be
once roused, it would be swept away like chaff before the whirlwind.

From Montezuma he exacted a promise to maintain the same friendly relations with his lieutenant which he had
preserved towards himself. This, said Cortes, would be most grateful to his own master, the Spanish sovereign. Should
the Aztec prince do otherwise, and lend himself to any hostile movement, he must be convinced that he would fall the
first victim of it.

The emperor assured him of his continued good will. He was much perplexed, however, by the recent events. Were the
at his court, or those just landed, the true representatives of their sovereign? Cortes, who had hitherto maintained a
reserve on the subject, now told him that the latter were indeed his countrymen, but traitors to his master. As such it
was his painful duty to march against them, and, when he had chastised their rebellion, he should return, before his
departure from the land, in triumph to the capital. Montezuma offered to support him with five thousand Aztec warriors;
but the general declined it, not choosing to encumber himself with a body of doubtful, perhaps disaffected,
auxiliaries.

He left in garrison, under Alvarado, one hundred and forty men, two-thirds of his whole force. With these remained
all the artillery, the greater part of the little body of horse, and most of the arquebusiers. He took with him only
seventy soldiers, but they were men of the most mettle in the army and his staunch adherents. They were lightly armed,
and encumbered with as little baggage as possible. Everything depended on celerity of movement.

Montezuma, in his royal litter, borne on the shoulders of his nobles, and escorted by the whole Spanish infantry,
accompanied the general to the causeway. There, embracing him in the most cordial manner, they parted, with all the
external marks of mutual regard. — It was about the middle of May, 1520, more than six months since the entrance of the
Spaniards into Mexico. During this time they had lorded it over the land with absolute sway. They were now leaving the
city in hostile array, not against an Indian foe, but their own countrymen. It was the beginning of a long career of
calamity — chequered, indeed, by occasional triumphs — which was yet to be run before the Conquest could be
completed.

Chapter VII 1520

CORTES DESCENDS FROM THE TABLELAND— NEGOTIATES WITH NARVAEZ— PREPARES TO ASSAULT HIM— QUARTERS OF
NARVAEZ— ATTACKED BY NIGHT— NARVAEZ DEFEATED

TRAVERSING the southern causeway, by which they had entered the capital, the little party were soon on their march
across the beautiful valley. They climbed the mountain-screen which Nature has so ineffectually drawn around it; passed
between the huge volcanoes that, like faithless watch-dogs on their posts, have long since been buried in slumber;
threaded the intricate defiles where they had before experienced such bleak and tempestuous weather; and, emerging on
the other side, descended the eastern slope which opens on the wide expanse of the fruitful plateau of Cholula.

They heeded little of what they saw on their rapid march, nor whether it was cold or hot. The anxiety of their minds
made them indifferent to outward annoyances; and they had fortunately none to encounter from the natives, for the name
of Spaniard was in itself a charm — a better guard than helm or buckler to the bearer.

In Cholula, Cortes had the inexpressible satisfaction of meeting Velasquez de Leon, with the hundred and twenty
soldiers intrusted to his command for the formation of a colony. That faithful officer had been some time at Cholula,
waiting for the general’s approach. Had he failed, the enterprise of Cortes must have failed also. The idea of
resistance, with his own handful of followers, would have been chimerical. As it was, his little band was now trebled,
and acquired a confidence in proportion.

Cordially embracing their companions in arms, now knit together more closely than ever by the sense of a great and
common danger, the combined troops traversed with quick step the streets of the sacred city, where many a dark pile of
ruins told of their disastrous visit on the preceding autumn. They kept the high road to Tlascala; and, at not many
leagues’ distance from that capital, fell in with Father Olmedo and his companions on their return from the camp of
Narvaez. The ecclesiastic bore a letter from that commander, in which he summoned Cortes and his followers to submit to
his authority, as captain-general of the country, menacing them with condign punishment, in case of refusal or delay.
Olmedo gave many curious particulars of the state of the enemy’s camp. Narvaez he described as puffed up by authority,
and negligent of precautions against a foe whom he held in contempt. He was surrounded by a number of pompous conceited
officers, who ministered to his vanity, and whose braggart tones, the good father, who had an eye for the ridiculous,
imitated, to the no small diversion of Cortes and the soldiers. Many of the troops, he said, showed no great partiality
for their commander, and were strongly disinclined to a rupture with their countrymen; a state of feeling much promoted
by the accounts they had received of Cortes, by his own arguments and promises, and by the liberal distribution of the
gold with which he had been provided. In addition to these matters, Cortes gathered much important intelligence
respecting the position of the enemy’s force, and his general plan of operations.

At Tlascala, the Spaniards were received with a frank and friendly hospitality. It is not said whether any of the
Tlascalan allies accompanied them from Mexico. If they did, they went no further than their native city. Cortes
requested a reinforcement of six hundred fresh troops to attend him on his present expedition. It was readily granted;
but, before the army had proceeded many miles on its route, the Indian auxiliaries fell off, one after another, and
returned to their city. They had no personal feeling of animosity to gratify in the present instance, as in a war
against Mexico. It may be, too, that although intrepid in a contest with the bravest of the Indian races, they had too
fatal experience of the prowess of the white men to care to measure swords with them again. At any rate, they deserted
in such numbers that Cortes dismissed the remainder at once, saying, good-humouredly, “He had rather part with them
then, than in the hour of trial.”

The troops soon entered on that wild district in the neighbourhood of Perote, strewed with the wreck of volcanic
matter, which forms so singular a contrast to the general character of beauty with which the scenery is stamped. It was
not long before their eyes were gladdened by the approach of Sandoval and about sixty soldiers from the garrison of
Vera Cruz, including several deserters from the enemy. It was a most important reinforcement, not more on account of
the numbers of the men than of the character of the commander. He had been compelled to fetch a circuit, in order to
avoid falling in with the enemy, and had forced his way through thick forests and wild mountain passes, till he had
fortunately, without accident, reached the appointed place of rendezvous, and stationed himself once more under the
banner of his chieftain. At the same place, also, Cortes was met by Tobillos, a Spaniard whom he had sent to procure
the lances from Chinantla. They were perfectly well made, after the pattern which had been given; double-headed spears,
tipped with copper, and of great length.

Cortes now took a review of his army — if so paltry a force may be called an army — and found their numbers were two
hundred and sixty-six, only five of whom were mounted. A few muskets and crossbows were sprinkled among them. In
defensive armour they were sadly deficient. They were for the most part cased in the quilted doublet of the country,
thickly stuffed with cotton, the escaupil, recommended by its superior lightness, but which, though competent to turn
the arrow of the Indian, was ineffectual against a musket-ball. Most of this cotton mail was exceedingly out of repair,
giving evidence, in its unsightly gaps, of much rude service, and hard blows. Few, in this emergency, but would have
given almost any price — the best of the gold chains which they wore in tawdry display over their poor habiliments —
for a steel morion or cuirass, to take the place of their own hacked and battered armour.

The troops now resumed their march across the tableland, until, reaching the eastern slope, their labours were
lightened, as they descended towards the broad plains of the tierra caliente, spread out like a boundless ocean of
verdure below them. At some fifteen leagues’ distance from Cempoalla, where Narvaez, as has been noticed, had
established his quarters, they were met by another embassy from that commander. It consisted of the priest, Guevara,
Andres de Duero, and two or three others. Duero, the fast friend of Cortes, had been the person most instrumental,
originally, in obtaining him his commission from Velasquez. They now greeted each other with a warm embrace, and it was
not till after much preliminary conversation on private matters, that the secretary disclosed the object of his
visit.

He bore a letter from Narvaez, couched in terms somewhat different from the preceding. That officer required,
indeed, the acknowledgment of his paramount authority in the land, but offered his vessels to transport all who desired
it, from the country, together with their treasures and effects, without molestation or inquiry. The more liberal tenor
of these terms was, doubtless, to be ascribed to the influence of Duero. The secretary strongly urged Cortes to comply
with them, as the most favourable that could be obtained, and as the only alternative affording him a chance of safety
in his desperate condition. “For, however valiant your men may be, how can they expect,” he asked, “to face a force so
much superior in numbers and equipment as that of their antagonists?” But Cortes had set his fortunes on the cast, and
he was not the man to shrink from it. “If Narvaez bears a royal commission,” he returned, “I will readily submit to
him. But he has produced none. He is a deputy of my rival, Velasquez. For myself I am a servant of the king, I have
conquered the country for him; and for him I and my brave followers will defend it, to the last drop of our blood. If
we fall, it will be glory enough to have perished in the discharge of our duty.”

His friend might have been somewhat puzzled to comprehend how the authority of Cortes rested on a different ground
from that of Narvaez; and if they both held of the same superior, the governor of Cuba, why that dignitary should not
be empowered to supersede his own officer in case of dissatisfaction, and appoint a substitute. But Cortes here reaped
the full benefit of that legal fiction, if it may be so termed, by which his commission, resigned to the
self-constituted municipality of Vera Cruz, was again derived through that body from the crown. The device, indeed, was
too palpable to impose on any but those who chose to be blinded.

Duero had arranged with his friend in Cuba, when he took command of the expedition, that he himself was to have a
liberal share of the profits. It is said that Cortes confirmed this arrangement at the present juncture, and made it
clearly for the other’s interest that be should prevail in the struggle with Narvaez. This was an important point,
considering the position of the secretary. From this authentic source the general derived much information respecting
the designs of Narvaez, which had escaped the knowledge of Olmedo. On the departure of the envoys, Cortes intrusted
them with a letter for his rival, a counterpart of that which he had received from him. This show of negotiation
intimated a desire on his part to postpone if not avoid hostilities, which might the better put Narvaez off his guard.
In the letter he summoned that commander and his followers to present themselves before him without delay, and to
acknowledge his authority as the representative of his sovereign. He should otherwise be compelled to proceed against
them as rebels to the crown! With this missive, the vaunting tone of which was intended quite as much for his own
troops as the enemy, Cortes dismissed the envoys. They returned to disseminate among their comrades their admiration of
the general and of his unbounded liberality, of which he took care they should experience full measure, and they
dilated on the riches of his adherents, who, over their wretched attire, displayed with ostentatious profusion, jewels,
ornaments of gold, collars, and massive chains winding several times round their necks and bodies, the rich spoil of
the treasury of Montezuma.

The army now took its way across the level plains of the tierra caliente. Coming upon an open reach of meadow, of
some extent, they were, at length, stopped by a river or rather stream, called Rio de Canoas, “the River of Canoes,” of
no great volume ordinarily, but swollen at this time by excessive rains; it had rained hard that day. The river was
about a league distant from the camp of Narvaez. Before seeking out a practical ford, by which to cross it, Cortes
allowed his men to recruit their exhausted strength by stretching themselves on the ground. The shades of evening had
gathered round; and the rising moon, wading through dark masses of cloud, shone with a doubtful and interrupted light.
It was evident that the storm had not yet spent its fury. Cortes did not regret this. He had made up his mind to an
assault that very night, and in the darkness and uproar of the tempest his movements would be most effectually
concealed.

Before disclosing his design, he addressed his men in one of those stirring, soldierly harangues, to which he had
recourse in emergencies of great moment, as if to sound the depths of their hearts, and, where any faltered, to
re-animate them with his own heroic spirit. He briefly recapitulated the great events of the campaign, the dangers they
had surmounted, the victories they had achieved over the most appalling odds, the glorious spoil they had won. But of
this they were now to be defrauded; not by men holding a legal warrant from the crown, but by adventurers, with no
better title than that of superior force. They had established a claim on the gratitude of their country and their
sovereign. This claim was now to be dishonoured; their very services were converted into crimes, and their names
branded with infamy as those of traitors. But the time had at last come for vengeance. God would not desert the soldier
of the Cross. Those, whom he had carried victorious through greater dangers, would not be left to fail now. And, if
they should fail, better to die like brave men on the field of battle, than, with fame and fortune cast away, to perish
ignominiously like slaves on the gibbet. — This last point he urged upon his hearers; well knowing there was not one
among them so dull as not to be touched by it.

They responded with hearty acclamations, and Velasquez de Leon, and de Lugo, in the name of the rest, assured their
commander, if they failed, it should be his fault, not theirs. They would follow wherever he led. — The general was
fully satisfied with the temper of his soldiers, as he felt that his difficulty lay not in awakening their enthusiasm,
but in giving it a right direction. One thing is remarkable. He made no allusion to the defection which he knew existed
in the enemy’s camp. He would have his soldiers, in this last pinch, rely on nothing but themselves.

He announced his purpose to attack the enemy that very night, when he should be buried in slumber, and the friendly
darkness might throw a veil over their own movements, and conceal the poverty of their numbers. To this the troops,
jaded though they were by incessant marching, and half famished, joyfully assented. In their situation, suspense was
the worst of evils. He next distributed the commands among his captains. To Gonzalo de Sandoval he assigned the
important office of taking Narvaez. He was commanded, as alguacil mayor, to seize the person of that officer as a rebel
to his sovereign, and, if he made resistance, to kill him on the spot. He was provided with sixty picked men to aid him
in this difficult task, supported by several of the ablest captains, among whom were two of the Alvarados, de Avila and
Ordaz. The largest division of the force was placed under Christoval de Olid, or according to some authorities,
Pizarro, one of that family so renowned in the subsequent conquest of Peru. He was to get possession of the artillery,
and to cover the assault of Sandoval by keeping those of the enemy at bay, who would interfere with it. Cortes reserved
only a body of twenty men for himself, to act on any point that occasion might require. The watchword was Espiritu
Santo, it being the evening of Whitsunday. Having made these arrangements, he prepared to cross the river.

During the interval thus occupied by Cortes, Narvaez had remained at Cempoalla, passing his days in idle and
frivolous amusement. From this he was at length roused, after the return of Duero, by the remonstrances of the old
cacique of the city. “Why are you so heedless?” exclaimed the latter; “do you think Malinche is so? Depend on it, he
knows your situation exactly, and, when you least dream of it, he will be upon you.”

Alarmed at these suggestions and those of his friends, Narvaez at length put himself at the head of his troops, and,
on the very day on which Cortes arrived at the River of Canoes, sallied out to meet him. But, when he had reached this
barrier, Narvaez saw no sign of an enemy. The rain, which fell in torrents, soon drenched the soldiers to the skin.
Made somewhat effeminate by their long and luxurious residence at Cempoalla, they murmured at their uncomfortable
situation. “Of what use was it to remain there fighting with the elements? There was no sign of an enemy, and little
reason to apprehend his approach in such tempestuous weather. It would be wiser to return to Cempoalla, and in the
morning they should be all fresh for action, should Cortes make his appearance.”

Narvaez took counsel of these advisers, or rather of his own inclinations. Before retracing his steps, he provided
against surprise, by stationing a couple of sentinels at no great distance from the river, to give notice of the
approach of Cortes. He also detached a body of forty horse in another direction, by which he thought it not improbable
the enemy might advance on Cempoalla. Having taken these precautions, he fell back again before night on his own
quarters.

He there occupied the principal teocalli. It consisted of a stone building on the usual pyramidal basis; and the
ascent was by a flight of steep steps on one of the faces of the pyramid. In the edifice or sanctuary above he
stationed himself with a strong party of arquebusiers and crossbowmen. Two other teocallis in the same area were
garrisoned by large detachments of infantry. His artillery, consisting of seventeen or eighteen small guns, he posted
in the area below, and protected it by the remainder of his cavalry. When he had thus distributed his forces, he
returned to his own quarters, and soon after to repose, with as much indifference as if his rival had been on the other
side of the Atlantic, instead of a neighbouring stream.

That stream was now converted by the deluge of waters into a furious torrent. It was with difficulty that a
practicable ford could be found. The slippery stones, rolling beneath the feet, gave way at every step. The difficulty
of the passage was much increased by the darkness and driving tempest. Still, with their long pikes, the Spaniards
contrived to make good their footing, at least, all but two, who were swept down by the fury of the current. When they
had reached the opposite side, they had new impediments to encounter in traversing a road never good, now made doubly
difficult by the deep mire and the tangled brushwood with which it was overrun.

Here they met with a cross, which had been raised by them on their former march into the interior. They hailed it as
a good omen; and Cortes, kneeling before the blessed sign, confessed his sins, and declared his great object to be the
triumph of the holy Catholic faith. The army followed his example, and, having made a general confession, received
absolution from Father Olmedo, who invoked the blessing of heaven on the warriors who had consecrated their swords to
the glory of the Cross. Then rising up and embracing one another, as companions in the good cause, they found
themselves wonderfully invigorated and refreshed. The incident is curious, and well illustrates the character of the
time — in which war, religion, and rapine were so intimately blended together. Adjoining the road was a little coppice;
and Cortes, and the few who had horses, dismounting, fastened the animals to the trees, where they might find some
shelter from the storm. They deposited there, too, their baggage and such superfluous articles as would encumber their
movement. The general then gave them a few last words of advice. “Everything,” said he, “depends on obedience. Let no
man, from desire of distinguishing himself, break his ranks. On silence, despatch, and, above all, obedience to your
officers, the success of our enterprise depends.”

Silently and stealthily they held on their way without beat of drum or sound of trumpet, when they suddenly came on
the two sentinels who had been stationed by Narvaez to give notice of their approach. This had been so noiseless, that
the videttes were both of them surprised on their posts, and one only, with difficulty, effected his escape. The other
was brought before Cortes. Every effort was made to draw from him some account of the present position of Narvaez. But
the man remained obstinately silent; and, though threatened with the gibbet, and having a noose actually drawn round
his neck, his Spartan heroism was not be vanquished. Fortunately no change had taken place in the arrangements of
Narvaez since the intelligence previously derived from Duero.

The other sentinel, who had escaped, carried the news of the enemy’s approach to the camp. But his report was not
credited by the lazy soldiers, whose slumbers he had disturbed. “He had been deceived by his fears,” they said, “and
mistaken the noise of the storm, and the waving of the bushes, for the enemy. Cortes and his men were far enough on the
other side of the river, which they would be slow to cross in such a night.” Narvaez himself shared in the same blind
infatuation, and the discredited sentinel slunk abashed to his own quarters, vainly menacing them with the consequences
of their incredulity.

Cortes, not doubting that the sentinel’s report must alarm the enemy’s camp, quickened his pace. As he drew near, he
discerned a light in one of the lofty towers of the city. “It is the quarters of Narvaez,” he exclaimed to Sandoval,
“and that light must be your beacon.” On entering the suburbs, the Spaniards were surprised to find no one stirring,
and no symptom of alarm. Not a sound was to be heard, except the measured tread of their own footsteps, half-drowned in
the howling of the tempest. Still they could not move so stealthily as altogether to elude notice, as they defiled
through the streets of this populous city. The tidings were quickly conveyed to the enemy’s quarters, where, in an
instant, all was bustle and confusion. The trumpets sounded to arms. The dragoons sprang to their steeds, the
artillerymen to their guns. Narvaez hastily buckled on his armour, called his men around him, and summoned those in the
neighbouring teocallis, to join him in the area. He gave his orders with coolness; for, however wanting in prudence, he
was not deficient in presence of mind or courage.

All this was the work of a few minutes. But in those minutes the Spaniards had reached the avenue leading to the
camp. Cortes ordered his men to keep close to the walls of the buildings, that the cannon-shot might have free range.
No sooner had they presented themselves before the inclosure than the artillery of Narvaez opened a general fire.
Fortunately the pieces were pointed so high that most of the balls passed over their heads, and three men only were
struck down. They did not give the enemy time to reload. Cortes shouting the watchword of the night, “Espiritu Santo!
Espiritu Santo! Upon them!” in a moment Olid and his division rushed on the artillerymen, whom they pierced or knocked
down with their pikes, and got possession of their guns. Another division engaged the cavalry, and made a diversion in
favour of Sandoval, who with his gallant little band sprang up the great stairway of the temple. They were received
with a shower of missiles, arrows and musketballs, which, in the hurried aim, and the darkness of the night, did little
mischief. The next minute the assailants were on the platform, engaged hand to hand with their foes. Narvaez fought
bravely in the midst, encouraging his followers. His standard-bearer fell by his side, run through the body. He himself
received several wounds; for his short sword was not match for the long pikes of the assailants. At length, he received
a blow from a spear, which struck out his left “Santa Maria!” exclaimed the unhappy man, “I am slain!” The cry was
instantly taken up by the followers of Cortes, who shouted, “Victory!”

Disabled, and half-mad with agony from his wound, Narvaez was withdrawn by his men into the sanctuary. The
assailants endeavoured to force an entrance, but it was stoutly defended. At length a soldier, getting possession of a
torch, or firebrand, flung it on the thatched roof, and in a few moments the combustible materials of which it was
composed were in a blaze. Those within were driven out by the suffocating heat and smoke. A soldier, named Farfan,
grappled with the wounded commander, and easily brought him to the ground; when he was speedily dragged down the steps,
and secured with fetters. His followers, seeing@ the fate of their chief, made no further resistance.

During this time, Cortes and the troops of Olid had been engaged with the cavalry, and had discomfited them, after
some ineffectual attempts on the part of the latter to break through the dense array of pikes, by which several of
their number were unhorsed and some of them slain. The general then prepared to assault the other teocallis, first
summoning the garrisons to surrender. As they refused, he brought up the heavy guns to bear on them, thus turning the
artillery against its own masters. He accompanied this menacing movement with offers of the most liberal import; an
amnesty of the past, and a full participation in all the advantages of the Conquest. One of the garrisons was under the
command of Salvatierra, the same officer who talked of cutting off the ears of Cortes. From the moment he had learned
the fate of his own general, the hero was seized with a violent fit of illness which disabled him from further action.
The garrison waited only for one discharge of the ordnance, when they accepted the terms of capitulation. Cortes, it is
said, received, on this occasion, a support from an unexpected auxiliary. The air was filled with cocuyos — a species
of large beetle which emits an intense phosphoric light from its body, strong enough to enable one to read by it. These
wandering fires, seen in the darkness of the night, were converted by the excited imaginations of the besieged, into an
army with matchlocks. Such is the report of an eye-witness. But the facility with which the enemy surrendered may quite
as probably to be referred to the cowardice of the commander, and the disaffection of the soldiers, not unwilling to
come under the banners of Cortes.

The body of cavalry posted, it will be remembered, by Narvaez on one of the roads to Cempoalla, to intercept his
rival, having learned what had been passing, were not long in tendering their submission. Each of the soldiers in the
conquered army was required, in token of his obedience, to deposit his arms in the hands of the alguacils, and to take
the oaths to Cortes as Chief justice and Captain General of the colony.

The number of the slain is variously reported. It seems probable that no more than twelve perished on the side of
the vanquished, and of the victors half that number. The small amount may be explained by the short duration of the
action, and the random aim of the missiles in the darkness. The number of the wounded was much more considerable.

The field was now completely won. A few brief hours had sufficed to change the condition of Cortes from that of a
wandering outlaw at the head of a handful of needy adventurers, a rebel with a price upon his head, to that of an
independent chief, with a force at his disposal strong enough not only to secure his present conquests, but to open a
career for still loftier ambition. While the air rung with the acclamations of the soldiery, the victorious general,
assuming a deportment corresponding with his change of fortune, took his seat in a chair of state, and, with a rich
embroidered mantle thrown over his shoulders, received, one by one, the officers and soldiers, as they came to tender
their congratulations. The privates were graciously permitted to kiss his hand. The officers he noticed with words of
compliment or courtesy; and, when Duero, Bermudez the treasurer, and some others of the vanquished party, his old
friends, presented themselves, he cordially embraced them.

Narvaez, Salvatierra, and two or three of the hostile leaders were led before him in chains. It was a moment of deep
humiliation for the former commander, in which the anguish of the body, however keen, must have been forgotten in that
of the spirit. “You have great reason, Senor Cortes,” said the discomfited warrior, “to thank fortune for having given
you the day so easily, and put me in your power.”—“I have much to be thankful for,” replied the general; “but for my
victory over you, I esteem it as one of the least of my achievements since my coming into the country!” He then ordered
the wounds of the prisoners to be cared for, and sent them under a strong guard to Vera Cruz.

Notwithstanding the proud humility of his reply, Cortes could scarcely have failed to regard his victory over
Narvaez as one of the most brilliant achievements in his career. With a few scores of followers, badly clothed, worse
fed, wasted by forced marches, under every personal disadvantage, deficient in weapons and military stores, he had
attacked in their own quarters, routed, and captured the entire force of the enemy, thrice his superior in numbers,
well provided with cavalry and artillery, admirably equipped, and complete in all the munitions of war! The amount of
troops engaged on either side was, indeed, inconsiderable. But the proportions are not affected by this: and the
relative strength of the parties made a result so decisive one of the most remarkable events in the annals of war.

Chapter VIII 1520

DISCONTENT OF THE TROOPS— INSURRECTION IN THE CAPITAL— RETURN OF CORTES— GENERAL SIGNS OF HOSTILITY—
MASSACRE BY ALVARADO— RISING OF THE AZTECS

THE tempest that had raged so wildly during the night passed away with the morning, which rose bright and unclouded
on the field of battle. As the light advanced, it revealed more strikingly the disparity of the two forces so lately
opposed to each other. Those of Narvaez could not conceal their chagrin; and murmurs of displeasure became audible, as
they contrasted their own superior numbers and perfect appointments with the way-worn visages and rude attire of their
handful of enemies! It was with some satisfaction, therefore, that the general beheld his dusky allies from Chinantla,
two thousand in number, arrive upon the field. They were a fine athletic set of men; and, as they advanced in a sort of
promiscuous order, so to speak, with their gay banners of feather-work, and their lances tipped with itztli and copper,
glistering in the morning sun, they had something of an air of military discipline. They came too late for the action,
indeed, but Cortes was not sorry to exhibit to his new followers the extent of his resources in the country. As he had
now no occasion for his Indian allies, after a courteous reception and a liberal recompense, he dismissed them to their
homes.

He then used his utmost endeavours to allay the discontent of the troops. He addressed them in his most soft and
insinuating tones, and was by no means frugal of his promises. He suited the action to the word. There were few of them
but had lost their accoutrements, or their baggage, or horses taken and appropriated by the victors. This last article
was in great request among the latter, and many a soldier, weary with the long marches hitherto made on foot, had
provided himself, as he imagined, with a much more comfortable as well as creditable conveyance for the rest of the
campaign. The general now commanded everything to be restored. “They were embarked in the same cause,” he said, “and
should share with one another equally.” He went still further; and distributed among the soldiers of Narvaez a quantity
of gold and other precious commodities gathered from the neighbouring tribes, or found in his rival’s quarters.

These proceedings, however politic in reference to his new followers, gave great disgust to his old. “Our
commander,” they cried, “has forsaken his friends for his foes. We stood by him in his hour of distress, and are
rewarded with blows and wounds, while the spoil goes to our enemies!” The indignant soldiery commissioned the priest
Olmedo and Alonso de Avila to lay their complaints before Cortes. The ambassadors stated them without reserve,
comparing their commander’s conduct to the ungrateful proceeding of Alexander, who, when he gained a victory, usually
gave away more to his enemies than to the troops who enabled him to beat them. Cortes was greatly perplexed. Victorious
or defeated, his path seemed equally beset with difficulties!

He endeavoured to soothe their irritation by pleading the necessity of the case. “Our new comrades,” he said, “are
formidable from their numbers; so much so, that we are even now much more in their power than they are in ours. Our
only security is to make them not merely confederates, but friends. On any cause of disgust, we shall have the whole
battle to fight over again; and, if they are united, under a much greater disadvantage than before. I have considered
your interests,” he added, “as much as my own. All that I have is yours. But why should there be any ground for
discontent, when the whole country, with its riches, is before us? And our augmented strength must henceforth secure
the undisturbed control of it!”

But Cortes did not rely wholly on argument for the restoration of tranquillity. He knew this to be incompatible with
inaction; and be made arrangements to divide his forces at once, and to employ them on distant services. He selected a
detachment of two hundred men, under Diego de Ordaz, whom he ordered to form the settlement before meditated on the
Coatzacualco. A like number was sent with Velasquez de Leon, to secure the province of Panuco, some three degrees to
the north, on the Mexican Gulf. Twenty in each detachment were drafted from his own veterans.

Two hundred men he despatched to Vera Cruz, with orders to have the rigging, iron, and everything portable on board
of the fleet of Narvaez, brought on shore, and the vessels completely dismantled. He appointed a person named Cavallero
superintendent of the marine, with instructions that if any ships hereafter should enter the port, they should be
dismantled in like manner, and their officers imprisoned on shore.

But while he was thus occupied with new schemes of discovery and conquest, he received such astounding intelligence
from Mexico, as compelled him to concentrate all his faculties and his forces on that one point. The city was in a
state of insurrection. No sooner had the struggle with his rival been decided, than Cortes despatched a courier with
the tidings to the capital. In less than a fortnight, the same messenger returned with letters from Alvarado, conveying
the alarming information that the Mexicans were in arms, and had vigorously assaulted the Spaniards in their own
quarters. The enemy, he added, had burned the brigantines, by which Cortes had secured the means of retreat in case of
the destruction of the bridges. They had attempted to force the defences, and had succeeded in partially undermining
them, and they had overwhelmed the garrison with a tempest of missiles, which had killed several, and wounded a great
number. The letter concluded with beseeching his commander to hasten to their relief, if he would save them, or keep
his hold on the capital.

These tidings were a heavy blow to the general — the heavier, it seemed, coming, as they did, in the hour of
triumph, when he had thought to have all his enemies at his feet. There was no room for hesitation. To lose their
footing in the capital, the noblest city in the Western World, would be to lose the country itself, which looked up to
it as its head. He opened the matter fully to his soldiers, calling on all who would save their countrymen to follow
him. All declared their readiness to go; showing an alacrity, says Diaz, which some would have been slow to manifest,
had they foreseen the future.

Cortes now made preparations for instant departure. He countermanded the orders previously given to Velasquez and
Ordaz, and directed them to join him with their forces at Tlascala. He recalled the troops from Vera Cruz, leaving only
a hundred men in garrison there, under command of one Rodrigo Rangre: for he could not spare the services of Sandoval
at this crisis. He left his sick and wounded at Cempoalla, under charge of a small detachment, directing that they
should follow as soon as they were in marching order. Having completed these arrangements, he set out from Cempoalla,
well supplied with provisions by its hospitable cacique, who attended him some leagues on his way. The Totonac chief
seems to have had an amiable facility of accommodating himself to the powers that were in the ascendant.

Nothing worthy of notice occurred during the first part of the march. The troops everywhere met with a friendly
reception from the peasantry, who readily supplied their wants. Some time before reaching Tlascala, the route lay
through a country thinly settled, and the army experienced considerable suffering from want of food, and still more
from that of water. Their distress increased to an alarming degree, as, in the hurry of their march, they travelled
with the meridian sun beating fiercely on their heads. Several faltered by the way, and, throwing themselves down by
the roadside, seemed incapable of further effort, and almost indifferent to life.

In this extremity, Cortes sent forward a small detachment of horse to procure provisions in Tlascala, and speedily
followed in person. On arriving, he found abundant supplies already prepared by the hospitable natives. They were sent
back to the troops; the stragglers were collected one by one; refreshments were administered; and the army, restored in
strength and spirits, entered the republican capital.

Here they gathered little additional news respecting the events in Mexico, which a popular rumour attributed to the
secret encouragement and machinations of Montezuma. Cortes was commodiously lodged in the quarters of Maxixca, one of
the four chiefs of the republic. They readily furnished him with two thousand troops. There was no want of heartiness,
when the war was with their ancient enemy, the Aztec.

The Spanish commander, on reviewing his forces, after the junction with his two captains, found that they amounted
to about a thousand foot, and one hundred horse, besides the Tlascalan levies. In the infantry were nearly a hundred
arquebusiers, with as many crossbowmen; and the part of the army brought over by Narvaez was admirably equipped. It was
inferior, however, to his own veterans in what is better than any outward appointments — military training, and
familiarity with the peculiar service in which they were engaged.

Leaving these friendly quarters, the Spaniards took a more northerly route, as more direct than that by which they
had before penetrated into the valley. It was the road to Tezcuco. It still compelled them to climb the same bold range
of the Cordilleras, which attains its greatest elevation in the two mighty volcans at whose base they had before
travelled. As they descended into the populous plains, their reception by the natives was very different from that
which they had experienced on the preceding visit. There were no groups of curious peasantry to be seen gazing at them
as they passed, and offering their simple hospitality. The supplies they asked were not refused, but granted with an
ungracious air, that showed the blessing of their giver did not accompany them. This air of reserve became still more
marked as the army entered the suburbs of the ancient capital of the Acolhuas. No one came forth to greet them, and the
population seemed to have dwindled away — so many of them were withdrawn to the neighbouring scene of hostilities at
Mexico. Their cold reception was a sensible mortification to the veterans of Cortes, who, judging from the past, had
boasted to their new comrades of the sensation their presence would excite among the natives. The cacique of the place,
who, as it may be remembered, had been created through the influence of Cortes, was himself absent. The general drew an
ill omen from all these circumstances, which even raised an uncomfortable apprehension in his mind respecting the fate
of the garrison in Mexico.

But his doubts were soon dispelled by the arrival of a messenger in a canoe from that city, whence he had escaped
through the remissness of the enemy, or, perhaps, with their connivance. He brought despatches from Alvarado, informing
his commander that the Mexicans had for the last fortnight desisted from active hostilities, and converted their
operations into a blockade. The garrison had suffered greatly, but Alvarado expressed his conviction that the siege
would be raised, and tranquillity restored, on the approach of his countrymen. Montezuma sent a messenger, also, to the
same effect. At the same time, he exculpated himself from any part in the late hostilities, which he said had not only
been conducted without his privity, but contrary to his inclination and efforts.

The Spanish general, having halted long enough to refresh his wearied troops, took up his march along the southern
margin of the lake, which led him over the same causeway by which he had before entered the capital. It was the day
consecrated to St. John the Baptist, the 24th of June, 1520. But how different was the scene from that presented on his
former entrance! No crowds now lined the roads, no boats swarmed on the lake, filled with admiring spectators. A single
pirogue might now and then be seen in the distance, like a spy stealthily watching their movements, and darting away
the moment it had attracted notice. A death-like stillness brooded over the scene — a stillness that spoke louder to
the heart than the acclamations of multitudes.

Cortes rode on moodily at the head of his battalions, finding abundant food for meditation, doubtless, in this
change of circumstances. As if to dispel these gloomy reflections, he ordered his trumpets to sound, and their clear,
shrill notes, borne across the waters, told the inhabitants of the beleaguered fortress that their friends were at
hand. They were answered by a joyous peal of artillery, which seemed to give a momentary exhilaration to the troops, as
they quickened their pace, traversed the great drawbridges, and once more found themselves within the walls of the
imperial city.

The appearance of things here was not such as to allay their apprehensions. In some places they beheld the smaller
bridges removed, intimating too plainly, now that their brigantines were destroyed, how easy it would be cut off their
retreat. The town seemed even more deserted than Tezcuco. Its once busy and crowded population had mysteriously
vanished. And, as the Spaniards defiled through the empty streets, the tramp of their horses’ feet upon the pavement
was answered by dull and melancholy echoes that fell heavily on their hearts. With saddened feelings they reached the
great gates of the palace of Axayacatl. The gates were thrown open, and Cortes and his veterans, rushing in, were
cordially embraced by their companions in arms, while both parties soon forgot the present in the interesting
recapitulation of the past.

The first inquiries of the general were respecting the origin of the tumult. The accounts were various. Some imputed
it to the desire of the Mexicans to release their sovereign from confinement; others to the design of cutting off the
garrison while crippled by the absence of Cortes and their countrymen. All agreed, however, in tracing the immediate
cause to the violence of Alvarado. It was common for the Aztecs to celebrate an annual festival in May, in honour of
their patron war-god. It was called the “incensing of Huitzilopochtli,” and was commemorated by sacrifice, religious
songs, and dances, in which most of the nobles engaged, for it was one of the great festivals which displayed the pomp
of the Aztec ritual. As it was held in the court of the teocalli, in the immediate neighbourhood of the Spanish
quarters, and as a part of the temple itself was reserved for a Christian chapel, the caciques asked permission of
Alvarado to perform their rites there. They requested also to be allowed the presence of Montezuma. This latter
petition Alvarado declined, in obedience to the injunctions of Cortes; but acquiesced in the former, on condition that
the Aztecs should celebrate no human sacrifices, and should come without weapons.

They assembled accordingly on the day appointed, to the number of six hundred, at the smallest computation. They
were dressed in their most magnificent gala costumes, with their graceful mantles of feather-work, sprinkled with
precious stones, and their necks, arms and legs ornamented with collars and bracelets of gold. They had that love of
gaudy splendour which belongs to semi-civilised nations, and on these occasions displayed all the pomp and profusion of
their barbaric wardrobes.

Alvarado and his soldiers attended as spectators, some of them taking their station at the gates, as if by chance,
and others mingling in the crowd. They were all armed, a circumstance which, as it was usual, excited no attention. The
Aztecs were soon engrossed by the exciting movement of the dance, accompanied by their religious chant, and wild,
discordant minstrelsy. While thus occupied, Alvarado and his men, at a concerted signal, rushed with drawn swords on
their victims. Unprotected by armour or weapons of any kind, they were hewn down without resistance by their
assailants, who, in their bloody work, says a contemporary, showed no touch of pity or compunction. Some fled to the
gates, but were caught on the long pikes of the soldiers. Others, who attempted to scale the Coatepantli, or Wall of
Serpents, as it was called, which surrounded the area, shared the like fate, or were cut to pieces, or shot by the
ruthless soldiery. The pavement, says a writer of the age, ran with streams of blood, like water in a heavy shower. Not
an Aztec of all that gay company was left alive! It was repeating the dreadful scene of Cholula, with the disgraceful
addition, that the Spaniards, not content with slaughtering their victims, rifled them of the precious ornaments on
their persons! On this sad day fell the flower of the Aztec nobility. Not a family of note but had mourning and
desolation brought within its walls; and many a doleful ballad, rehearsing the tragic incidents of the story, and
adapted to the plaintive national airs, continued to be chanted by the natives long after the subjugation of the
country.

Various explanations have been given of this atrocious deed; but few historians have been content to admit that of
Alvarado himself. According to this, intelligence had been obtained through his spies — some of them Mexicans — of an
intended rising of the Indians. The celebration of this festival was fixed on as the period for its execution, when the
caciques would be met together, and would easily rouse the people to support them. Alvarado, advised of all this, had
forbidden them to wear arms at their meeting. While affecting to comply, they had secreted their weapons in the
neighbouring arsenals, whence they could readily withdraw them. But his own blow, by anticipating theirs, defeated the
design, and, as he confidently hoped, would deter the Aztecs from a similar attempt in future.

Such is the account of the matter given by Alvarado. But, if true, why did he not verify his assertion by exposing
the arms thus secreted? Why did he not vindicate his conduct in the eyes of the Mexicans generally, by publicly avowing
the treason of the nobles, as was done by Cortes at Cholula? The whole looks much like an apology devised after the
commission of the deed, to cover up its atrocity.

Some contemporaries assign a very different motive for the massacre, which, according to them, originated in the
cupidity of the Conquerors, as shown by their plundering the bodies of their victims. Bernal Diaz, who, though not
present, had conversed familiarly with those who were, vindicates them from the charge of this unworthy motive.
According to him, Alvarado struck the blow in order to intimidate the Aztecs from any insurrectionary movement. But
whether he had reason to apprehend such, or even affected to do so before the massacre, the old chronicler does not
inform us.

On reflection, it seems scarcely possible that so foul a deed, and one involving so much hazard to the Spaniards
themselves, should have been perpetrated from the mere desire of getting possession of the baubles worn on the persons
of the natives. It is more likely this was an after-thought, suggested to the rapacious soldiery by the display of the
spoil before them. It is not improbable that Alvarado may have gathered rumours of a conspiracy among the nobles —
rumours, perhaps, derived through the Tlascalans, their inveterate foes, and for that reason very little deserving of
credit. He proposed to defeat it by imitating the example of his commander at Cholula. But he omitted to imitate his
leader in taking precautions against the subsequent rising of the populace. And he grievously miscalculated, when he
confounded the bold and warlike Aztec with the effeminate Cholulan.

No sooner was the butchery accomplished, than the tidings spread like wildfire through the capital. Men could
scarcely credit their senses. All they had hitherto suffered, the desecration of their temples, the imprisonment of
their sovereign, the insults heaped on his person, all were forgotten in this one act. Every feeling of long smothered
hostility and rancour now burst forth in the cry for vengeance. Every former sentiment of superstitious dread was
merged in that of inextinguishable hatred. It required no effort of the priests — though this was not wanting — to fan
these passions into a blaze. The city rose in arms to a man; and on the following dawn, almost before the Spaniards
could secure themselves in their defences, they were assaulted with desperate fury. Some of the assailants attempted to
scale the walls; others succeeded in partially undermining and in setting fire to the works. Whether they would have
succeeded in carrying the place by storm is doubtful. But, at the prayers of the garrison, Montezuma himself
interfered, and mounting the battlements addressed the populace, whose fury he endeavoured to mitigate by urging
considerations for his own safety. They respected their monarch so far as to desist from further attempts to storm the
fortress, but changed their operations into a regular blockade. They threw up works around the palace to prevent the
egress of the Spaniards. They suspended the tianguez, or market, to preclude the possibility of their enemy’s obtaining
supplies; and they then quietly sat down, with feelings of sullen desperation, waiting for the hour when famine should
throw their victims into their hands.

The condition of the besieged, meanwhile, was sufficiently distressing. Their magazines of provisions, it is true,
were not exhausted; but they suffered greatly from want of water, which, within the inclosure, was exceedingly
brackish, for the soil was saturated with the salt of the surrounding element. In this extremity, they discovered, it
is said, a spring of fresh water in the area. Such springs were known in some other parts of the city; but, discovered
first under these circumstances, it was accounted as nothing less than a miracle. Still they suffered much from their
past encounters. Seven Spaniards, and many Tlascalans, had fallen, and there was scarcely one of either nation who had
not received several wounds. In this situation, far from their own countrymen, without expectation of succour from
abroad, they seemed to have no alternative before them, but a lingering death by famine, or one more dreadful on the
altar of sacrifice. From this gloomy state they were relieved by the coming of their comrades.

Cortes calmly listened to the explanation made by Alvarado. But, before it was ended, the conviction must have
forced itself on his mind, that he had made a wrong selection for this important post. Yet the mistake was natural.
Alvarado was a cavalier of high family, gallant and chivalrous, and his warm personal friend. He had talents for
action, was possessed of firmness and intrepidity, while his frank and dazzling manners made the Tonatiuh an especial
favourite with the Mexicans. But, underneath this showy exterior, the future conqueror of Guatemala concealed a heart
rash, rapacious, and cruel. He was altogether destitute of that moderation, which, in the delicate position he
occupied, was a quality of more worth than all the rest.

When Alvarado had concluded his answers to the several interrogatories of Cortes, the brow of the latter darkened,
as he said to his lieutenant, “You have done badly. You have been false to your trust. Your conduct has been that of a
madman!” And, turning abruptly on his heel, he left him in undisguised displeasure.

Yet this was not a time to break with one so popular, and in many respects so important to him, as this captain,
much less to inflict on him the punishment he merited. The Spaniards were like mariners labouring in a heavy tempest,
whose bark nothing but the dexterity of the pilot, and the hearty co-operation of the crew, can save from foundering.
Dissensions at such a moment must be fatal. Cortes, it is true, felt strong in his present resources. He now found
himself at the head of a force which could scarcely amount to less than twelve hundred and fifty Spaniards, and eight
thousand native warriors, principally Tlascalans. But, though relying on this to overawe resistance, the very
augmentations of numbers increased the difficulty of subsistence. Discontented with himself, disgusted with his
officer, and embarrassed by the disastrous consequences in which Alvarado’s intemperance had involved him, he became
irritable, and indulged in a petulance by no means common; for, though a man of lively passions by nature, he held them
habitually under control.

On the day that Cortes arrived, Montezuma had left his own quarters to welcome him. But the Spanish commander,
distrusting, as it would seem, however unreasonably, his good faith, received him so coldly that the Indian monarch
withdrew, displeased and dejected, to his apartment. As the Mexican populace made no show of submission, and brought no
supplies to the army, the general’s ill-humour with the emperor continued. When, therefore, Montezuma sent some of the
nobles to ask an interview with Cortes, the latter, turning to his own officers, haughtily exclaimed, “What have I to
do with this dog of a king, who suffers us to starve before his eyes!”

His captains, among whom were Olid, de Avila, and Velasquez de Leon, endeavoured to mitigate his anger, reminding
him, in respectful terms, that, had it not been for the emperor, the garrison might even now have been overwhelmed by
the enemy. This remonstrance only chafed him the more. “Did not the dog,” he asked, repeating the opprobrious epithet,
“betray us in his communications with Narvaez? And does he not now suffer his markets to be closed, and leave us to die
of famine?” Then, turning fiercely to the Mexicans he said, “Go, tell your master and his people to open the markets,
or we will do it for them, at their cost!” The chiefs, who had gathered the import of his previous taunt on their
sovereign, from his tone and gesture, or perhaps from some comprehensions of his language, left his presence swelling
with resentment; and, in communicating his message, took care it should lose none of its effect.

Shortly after, Cortes, at the suggestion, it is said, of Montezuma, released his brother Cuitlahua, lord of
Iztapalapan, who, it will be remembered, had been seized on suspicion of co-operating with the chief of Tezcuco in his
meditated revolt. It was thought he might be of service in allaying the present tumult, and bringing the. populace to a
better state of feeling. But he returned no more to the fortress. He was a bold, ambitious prince, and the injuries he
had received from the Spaniards rankled deep in his bosom. He was presumptive heir to the crown, which, by the Aztec
laws of succession, descended much more frequently in a collateral than in a direct line. The people welcomed him as
the representative of their reign, and chose him to supply the place of Montezuma during his captivity. Cuitlahua
willingly accepted the post of honour and of danger. He was an experienced warrior, and exerted himself to reorganise
the disorderly levies, and to arrange a more efficient plan of operations. The effect was soon visible.

Cortes, meanwhile, had so little doubt of his ability to overawe the insurgents, that he wrote to that effect to the
garrison of Villa Rica, by the same despatches in which he informed them of his safe arrival in the capital. But
scarcely had his messenger been gone half an hour, when he returned breathless with terror, and covered with
wounds.

“The city,” he said, “was all in arms! The drawbridges were raised, and the enemy would soon be upon them!” He spoke
truth. It was not long before a hoarse, sullen sound became audible, like that of the roaring of distant waters. It
grew louder and louder; till, from the parapet surrounding the inclosure, the great avenues which led to it might be
seen dark with the masses of warriors, who came rolling on in a confused tide towards the fortress. At the same time
the terraces and azoteas or flat roofs, in the neighbourhood, were thronged with combatants brandishing their missiles,
who seemed to have risen up as if by magic! It was a spectacle to appal the stoutest. — But the dark storm to which it
was the prelude, and which gathered deeper and deeper round the Spaniards during the remainder of their residence in
the capital, must form the subject of a separate book.

BOOK V:

Expulsion from Mexico

Chapter I 1520

DESPERATE ASSAULT ON THE QUARTERS— FURY OF THE MEXICANS— SALLY OF THE SPANIARDS— MONTEZUMA ADDRESSES
THE PEOPLE— DANGEROUSLY WOUNDED

THE palace of Axayacatl, in which the Spaniards were quartered, was, as the reader may remember, a vast, irregular
pile of stone buildings, having but one floor, except in the centre, where another story was added, consisting of a
suite of apartments which rose like turrets on the main building of the edifice. A vast area stretched around,
encompassed by a stone wall of no great height. This was supported by towers or bulwarks at certain intervals, which
gave it some degree of strength, not, indeed, as compared with European fortifications, but sufficient to resist the
rude battering enginery of the Indians. The parapet had been pierced here and there with embrasures for the artillery,
which consisted of thirteen guns; and smaller apertures were made in other parts for the convenience of the
arquebusiers. The Spanish forces found accommodations within the great building; but the numerous body of Tlascalan
auxiliaries could have had no other shelter than what was afforded by barracks or sheds hastily constructed for the
purpose in the spacious courtyard. Thus crowded into a small compact compass, the whole army could be assembled at a
moment’s notice; and, as the Spanish commander was careful to enforce the strictest discipline and vigilance, it was
scarcely possible that he could be taken by surprise. No sooner, therefore, did the trumpet call to arms, as the
approach of the enemy was announced, than every soldier was at his post, the cavalry mounted, the artillerymen at their
guns, and the archers and arquebusiers stationed so as to give the assailants a warm reception.

On they came, with the companies, or irregular masses, into which the multitude was divided, rushing forward each in
its own dense column, with many a gay banner displayed, and many a bright gleam of light reflected from helmet, arrow,
and spear-head, as they were tossed about in their disorderly array. As they drew near the inclosure, the Aztecs set up
a hideous yell, or rather that shrill whistle used in fight by the nations of Anahuac, which rose far above the sound
of shell and atabal, and their other rude instruments of warlike melody. They followed this by a tempest of missiles —
stones, darts, and arrows — which fell thick as rain on the besieged, while volleys of the same kind descended from the
crowded terraces of the neighbourhood.

The Spaniards waited until the foremost column had arrived within the best distance for giving effect to their fire,
when a general discharge of artillery and arquebuses swept the ranks of the assailants, and mowed them down by
hundreds. The Mexicans were familiar with the report of these formidable engines, as they had been harmlessly
discharged on some holiday festival; but never till now had they witnessed their murderous power. They stood aghast for
a moment, as with bewildered looks they staggered under the fury of the fire; but, soon rallying, the bold barbarians
uttered a piercing cry, and rushed forward over the prostrate bodies of their comrades. A second and a third volley
checked their career, and threw them into disorder, but still they pressed on, letting off clouds of arrows; while
their comrades on the roofs of the houses took more deliberate aim at the combatants in the courtyard. The Mexicans
were particularly expert in the use of the sling; and the stones which they hurled from their elevated positions on the
heads of their enemies did even greater execution than the arrows. They glanced, indeed, from the mail-covered bodies
of the cavaliers, and from those who were sheltered under the cotton panoply, or escaupil. But some of the soldiers,
especially the veterans of Cortes, and many of their Indian allies, had but slight defences, and suffered greatly under
this stony tempest.

The Aztecs, meanwhile, had advanced close under the walls of the intrenchment; their ranks broken and disordered,
and their limbs mangled by the unintermitting fire of the Christians. But they still pressed on, under the very muzzle
of the guns. They endeavoured to scale the parapet, which from its moderate height was in itself a work of no great
difficulty. But the moment they showed their heads above the rampart, they were shot down by the unerring marksmen
within, or stretched on the ground by a blow of a Tlascalan maquahuitl. Nothing daunted, others soon appeared to take
the place of the fallen, and strove, by raising themselves on the writhing bodies of their dying comrades, or by fixing
their spears in the crevices of the wall, to surmount the barrier. But the attempt proved equally vain.

Defeated here, they tried to effect a breach in the parapet by battering it with heavy pieces of timber. The works
were not constructed on those scientific principles by which one part is made to overlook and protect another. The
besiegers, therefore, might operate at their pleasure, with but little molestation from the garrison within, whose guns
could not be brought into a position to bear on them, and who could mount no part of their own works for their defence,
without exposing their persons to the missiles of the whole besieging army. The parapet, however, proved too strong for
the efforts of the assailants. In their despair, they endeavoured to set the Christian quarters on fire, shooting
burning arrows into them, and climbing up so as to dart their firebrands through the embrasures. The principal edifice
was of stone. But the temporary defences of the Indian allies, and other parts of the exterior works, were of wood.
Several of these took fire, and the flame spread rapidly among the light combustible materials. This was a disaster for
which the besieged were wholly unprepared. They had little water, scarcely enough for their own consumption. They
endeavoured to extinguish the flames by heaping on earth; but in vain. Fortunately the great building was of materials
which defied the destroying element. But the fire raged in some of the outworks, connected with the parapet, with a
fury which could only be checked by throwing down a part of the wall itself, thus laying open a formidable breach.
This, by the general’s order, was speedily protected by a battery of heavy guns, and a file of arquebusiers, who kept
up an incessant volley through the opening on the assailants.

The fight now raged with fury on both sides. The walls around the palace belched forth an unintermitting sheet of
flame and smoke. The groans of the wounded and dying were lost in the fiercer battle-cries of the combatants, the roar
of the artillery, the sharper rattle of the musketry, and the hissing sound of Indian missiles. It was the conflict of
the European with the American; of civilised man with the barbarian; of the science of the one with the rude weapons
and warfare of the other. And as the ancient walls of Tenochtitlan shook under the thunders of the artillery — it
announced that the white man, the destroyer, had set his foot within her precincts.

Night at length came, and drew her friendly mantle over the contest. The Aztec seldom fought by night. It brought
little repose, however, to the Spaniards, in hourly expectation of an assault; and they found abundant occupation in
restoring the breaches in their defences, and in repairing their battered armour. The ferocity shown by the Mexicans
seems to have been a thing for which Cortes was wholly unprepared. His past experience, his uninterrupted career of
victory with a much feebler force at his command, had led him to underrate the military efficiency, if not the valour,
of the Indians. The apparent facility with which the Mexicans had acquiesced in the outrages on their sovereign and
themselves, had led him to hold their courage, in particular, too lightly. He could not believe the present assault to
be anything more than a temporary ebullition of the populace, which would soon waste itself by its own fury. And he
proposed, on the following day, to sally out and inflict such chastisement on his foes as should bring them to their
senses, and show who was master in the capital.

With early dawn, the Spaniards were up and under arms; but not before their enemies had given evidence of their
hostility by the random missiles, which, from time to time, were sent into the inclosure. As the grey light of morning
advanced, it showed the besieging army far from being diminished in numbers, filling up the great square and
neighbouring avenues, in more dense array than on the preceding evening. Instead of a confused, disorderly rabble, it
had the appearance of something like a regular force, with its battalions distributed under their respective banners,
the devices of which showed a contribution from the principal cities and districts in the valley. High above the rest
was conspicuous the ancient standard of Mexico, with its well-known cognisance, an eagle pouncing on an ocelot,
emblazoned on a rich mantle of feather-work. Here and there priests might be seen mingling in the ranks of the
besiegers, and, with frantic gestures, animating them to avenge their insulted deities.

The greater part of the enemy had little clothing save the Maxtlatl, or sash, round the loins. They were variously
armed, with long spears tipped with copper, or flint, or sometimes merely pointed and hardened in the fire. Some were
provided with slings, and others with darts having two or three points, with long strings attached to them, by which,
when discharged, they could be torn away again from the body of the wounded. This was a formidable weapon, much dreaded
by the Spaniards. Those of a higher order wielded the terrible maquahuitl, with its sharp and brittle blades of
obsidian. Amidst the motley bands of warriors, were seen many whose showy dress and air of authority intimated persons
of high military consequence. Their breasts were protected by plates of metal, over which was thrown the gay surcoat of
feather-work. They wore casques resembling, in their form, the head of some wild and ferocious animal, crested with
bristly hair, or overshadowed by tall and graceful plumes of many a brilliant colour. Some few were decorated with the
red fillet bound round the hair, having tufts of cotton attached to it, which denoted by their number that of the
victories they had won, and their own pre-eminent rank among the warriors of the nation. The motley assembly showed
that priest, warrior, and citizen had all united to swell the tumult.

Before the sun had shot his beams into the Castilian quarters, the enemy were in motion, evidently preparing to
renew the assault of the preceding day. The Spanish commander determined to anticipate them by a vigorous sortie, for
which he had already made the necessary dispositions. A general discharge of ordnance and musketry sent death far and
wide into the enemy’s ranks, and, before they had time to recover from their confusion, the gates were thrown open, and
Cortes, sallying out at the head of his cavalry, supported by a large body of infantry and several thousand Tlascalans,
rode at full gallop against them. Taken thus by surprise, it was scarcely possible to offer much resistance. Those who
did were trampled down under the horses’ feet, cut to pieces with the broadswords, or pierced with the lances of the
riders. The infantry followed up the blow, and the rout for the moment was general.

But the Aztecs fled only to take refuge behind a barricade, or strong work of timber and earth, which had been
thrown across the great street through which they were pursued. Rallying on the other side, they made a gallant stand,
and poured in turn a volley of their light weapons on the Spaniards, who, saluted with a storm of missiles at the same
time, from the terraces of the houses, were checked in their career, and thrown into some disorder.

Cortes, thus impeded, ordered up a few pieces of heavy ordnance, which soon swept away the barricades, and cleared a
passage for the army. But it had lost the momentum acquired in its rapid advance. They enemy had time to rally and to
meet the Spaniards on more equal terms. They were attacked in flank, too, as they advanced, by fresh battalions, who
swarmed in from the adjoining streets and lanes. The canals were alive with boats filled with warriors, who, with their
formidable darts, searched every crevice or weak place in the armour of proof, and made havoc on the unprotected bodies
of the Tlascalans. By repeated and vigorous charges, the Spaniards succeeded in driving the Indians before them; though
many, with a desperation which showed they loved vengeance better than life, sought to embarrass the movements of their
horses by clinging to their legs, or more successfully strove to pull the riders from their saddles. And woe to the
unfortunate cavalier who was thus dismounted — to be despatched by the brutal maquahuitl, or to be dragged on board a
canoe to the bloody altar of sacrifice!

But the greatest annoyance which the Spaniards endured from the missiles from the azoteas, consisting often of large
stones, hurled with a force that would tumble the stoutest rider from his saddle. Galled in the extreme by these
discharges, against which even their shields afforded no adequate protection, Cortes ordered fire to be set to the
buildings. This was no very difficult matter, since, although chiefly of stone, they were filled with mats, canework,
and other combustible materials, which were soon in a blaze. But the buildings stood separated from one another by
canals and drawbridges, so that the flames did not easily communicate to the neighbouring edifices. Hence the labour of
the Spaniards was incalculably increased, and their progress in the work of destruction — fortunately for the city —
was comparatively slow. They did not relax their efforts, however, till several hundred houses had been consumed, and
the miseries of a conflagration, in which the wretched inmates perished equally with the defenders, were added to the
other horrors of the scene.

The day was now far spent. The Spaniards had been everywhere victorious. But the enemy, though driven back on every
point, still kept the field. When broken by the furious charges of the cavalry, he soon rallied behind the temporary
defences, which, at different intervals, had been thrown across the streets, and, facing about, renewed the fight with
undiminished courage, till the sweeping away of the barriers by the cannon of the assailants left a free passage for
the movements of their horse. Thus the action was a succession of rallying and retreating, in which both parties
suffered much, although the loss inflicted on the Indians was probably tenfold greater than that of the Spaniards. But
the Aztecs could better afford the loss of a hundred lives than their antagonists that of one. And while the Spaniards
showed an array broken, and obviously thinned in numbers, the Mexican army, swelled by the tributary levies which
flowed in upon it from the neighbouring streets, exhibited, with all its losses, no sign of diminution. At length,
sated with carnage, and exhausted by toil and hunger, the Spanish commander drew off his men, and sounded a
retreat.

On his way back to his quarters, he beheld his friend, the secretary Duero, in a street adjoining, unhorsed, and
hotly engaged with a body of Mexicans, against whom he was desperately defending himself with his poniard. Cortes,
roused at the sight, shouted his war-cry, and, dashing into the midst of the enemy, scattered them like chaff by the
fury of his onset; then recovering his friend’s horse, he enabled him to remount, and the two cavaliers, striking their
spurs into their steeds, burst through their opponents and joined the main body of the army.

The undaunted Aztecs hung on the rear of their retreating foes, annoying them at every step by fresh flights of
stones and arrows; and when the Spaniards had re-entered their fortress, the Indian host encamped around it, showing
the same dogged resolution as on the preceding evening. Though true to their ancient habits of inaction during the
night, they broke the stillness of the hour by insulting cries and menaces, which reached the ears of the besieged.
“The gods have delivered you, at last, into our hands,” they said; “Huitzilopochtli has long cried for his victims. The
stone of sacrifice is ready. The knives are sharpened. The wild beasts in the palace are roaring for their offal. And
the cages,” they added, taunting the Tlascalans with their leanness, “are waiting for the false sons of Anahuac, who
are to be fattened for the festival.” These dismal menaces, which sounded fearfully in the ears of the besieged, who
understood too well their import, were mingled with piteous lamentations for their sovereign, whom they called on the
Spaniards to deliver up to them.

Cortes suffered much from a severe wound which he had received in the hand in the late action. But the anguish of
his mind must have been still greater, as he brooded over the dark prospect before him. He had mistaken the character
of the Mexicans. Their long and patient endurance had been a violence to their natural temper, which, as their whole
history proves, was arrogant and ferocious beyond that of most of the races of Anahuac. The restraint which, in
deference to their monarch, more than to their own fears, they had so long put on their natures, being once removed,
their passions burst forth with accumulated violence. The Spaniards had encountered in the Tlascalan an open enemy, who
had no grievance to complain of, no wrong to redress. He fought under the vague apprehension only of some coming evil
to his country. But the Aztec, hitherto the proud lord of the land, was goaded by insult and injury, till he had
reached that pitch of self-devotion, which made fife cheap, in comparison with revenge.

Considerations of this kind may have passed through the mind of Cortes, as he reflected on his own impotence to
restrain the fury of the Mexicans, and resolved in despite of his late supercilious treatment of Montezuma, to employ
his authority to allay the tumult — an authority so successfully exerted in behalf of Alvarado, at an earlier stage of
the insurrection. He was the more confirmed in his purpose, on the following morning, when the assailants, redoubling
their efforts, succeeded in scaling the works in one quarter, and effecting an entrance into the inclosure. It is true,
they were met with so resolute a spirit, that not a man of those who entered was left alive. But in the impetuosity of
the assault, it seemed, for a few moments, as if the place was to be carried by storm.

Cortes now sent to the Aztec emperor to request his interposition with his subjects in behalf of the Spaniards. But
Montezuma was not in the humour to comply. He had remained moodily in his quarters ever since the general’s return.
Disgusted with the treatment he had received, he had still further cause for mortification in finding himself the ally
of those who were the open enemies of his nation. From his apartment he had beheld the tragical scenes in his capital,
and seen another, Cuitlahua, the presumptive heir to his throne, whom Cortes had released a few days previous, taking
the place which he should have occupied at the head of his warriors, and fighting the battles of his country.
Distressed by his position, indignant at those who had placed him in it, he coldly answered, “What have I to do with
Malinche? I do not wish to hear from him. I desire only to die. To what a state has my willingness to serve him reduced
me!” When urged still further to comply by Olid and Father Olmedo, he added, “It is of no use. They will neither
believe me, nor the false words and promises of Malinche. You will never leave these walls alive.” On being assured,
however, that the Spaniards would willingly depart, if a way were opened to them by their enemies, he at length —
moved, probably, more by the desire to spare the blood of his subjects than of the Christians — consented to
expostulate with his people.

In order to give the greater effect to his presence, he put on his imperial robes. The tilmatli, his mantle of white
and blue, flowed over his shoulders, held together by its rich clasp of the green chalchuitl. The same precious gem,
with emeralds of uncommon size, set in gold, profusely ornamented other parts of his dress. His feet were shod with the
golden sandals, and his brows covered by the copilli, or Mexican diadem, resembling in form the pontifical tiara. Thus
attired, and surrounded by a guard of Spaniards and several Aztec nobles, and preceded by the golden wand, the symbol
of sovereignty, the Indian monarch ascended the central turret of the palace. His presence was instantly recognised by
the people, and, as the royal retinue advanced along the battlements, a change, as if by magic, came over the scene.
The clang of instruments, the fierce cries of the assailants, were hushed, and a death-like stillness pervaded the
whole assembly, so fiercely agitated but a few moments before by the wild tumult of war! Many prostrated themselves on
the ground; others bent the knee; and all turned with eager expectation towards the monarch, whom they had been taught
to reverence with slavish awe, and from whose countenance they had been wont to turn away as from the intolerable
splendours of divinity! Montezuma saw his advantage; and, while he stood thus confronted with his awe-struck people, he
seemed to recover all his former authority and confidence as he felt himself to be still a king. With a calm voice,
easily heard over the silent assembly, he is said by the Castilian writers to have thus addressed them:

“Why do I see my people here in arms against the palace of my fathers? Is it that you think your sovereign a
prisoner, and wish to release him? If so, you have acted rightly. But you are mistaken. I am no prisoner. The strangers
are my guests. I remain with them only from choice, and can leave them when I list. Have you come to drive them from
the city? That is unnecessary. They will depart of their own accord, if you will open a way for them. Return to your
homes, then. Lay down your arms. Show your obedience to me who have a right to it. The white men shall go back to their
own land; and all shall be well again within the walls of Tenochtitlan.”

As Montezuma announced himself the friend of the detested strangers, a murmur ran through the multitude; a murmur of
contempt for the pusillanimous prince who could show himself so insensible to the insults and injuries for which the
nation was in arms! The swollen tide of their passions swept away all the barriers of ancient reverence, and, taking a
new direction, descended on the head of the unfortunate monarch, so far degenerated from his warlike ancestors. “Base
Aztec,” they exclaimed, “woman, coward, the white men have made you a woman — fit only to weave and spin!” These bitter
taunts were soon followed by still more hostile demonstrations. A chief, it is said, of high rank, bent a bow or
brandished a javelin with an air of defiance against the emperor, when, in an instant, a cloud of stones and arrows
descended on the spot where the royal train was gathered. The Spaniards appointed to protect his person had been thrown
off their guard by the respectful deportment of the people during their lord’s address. They now hastily interposed
their bucklers. But it was too late. Montezuma was wounded by three of the missiles one of which, a stone, fell with
such violence on his head, near the temple, as brought him senseless to the ground. The Mexicans, shocked at their own
sacrilegious act, experienced a sudden revulsion of feeling, and setting up a dismal cry, dispersed panic-struck in
different directions. Not one of the multitudinous array remained in the great square before the palace!

The unhappy prince, meanwhile, was borne by his attendants to his apartments below. On recovering from the
insensibility caused by the blow, the wretchedness of his condition broke upon him. He had tasted the last bitterness
of degradation. He had been reviled, rejected, by his people. The meanest of the rabble had raised their hands against
him. He had nothing more to live for. It was in vain that Cortes and his officers endeavoured to soothe the anguish of
his spirit and fill him with better thoughts. He spoke not a word in answer. His wound, though dangerous, might still,
with skilful treatment, not prove mortal. But Montezuma refused all the remedies prescribed for it. He tore off the
bandages as often as they were applied, maintaining all the while the most determined silence. He sat with eyes
dejected, brooding over his fallen fortunes, over the image of ancient majesty and present humiliation. He had survived
his honour. But a spark of his ancient spirit seemed to kindle in his bosom, as it was clear he did not mean to survive
his disgrace. — From this painful scene the Spanish general and his followers were soon called away by the new dangers
which menaced the garrison.

Chapter II 1520

STORMING OF THE GREAT TEMPLE— SPIRIT OF THE AZTECS— DISTRESSES OF THE GARRISON— SHARP COMBATS IN THE
CITY— DEATH OF MONTEZUMA

OPPOSITE to the Spanish quarters, at only a few rods’ distance, stood the great teocalli of Huitzilopochtli. This
pyramidal mound, with the sanctuaries that crowned it, rising altogether to the height of near a hundred and fifty
feet, afforded an elevated position that completely commanded the palace of Axayacatl, occupied by the Christians. A
body of five or six hundred Mexicans, many of them nobles and warriors of the highest rank, had got possession of the
teocalli, whence they discharged such a tempest of arrows on the garrison, that no one could leave his defences for a
moment without imminent danger; while the Mexicans, under shelter of the sanctuaries, were entirely covered from the
fire of the besieged. It was obviously necessary to dislodge the enemy, if the Spaniards would remain longer in their
quarters.

Cortes assigned this service to his chamberlain Escobar, giving him a hundred men for the purpose, with orders to
storm the teocalli, and set fire to the sanctuaries. But that officer was thrice repulsed in the attempt, and, after
the most desperate efforts, was obliged to return with considerable loss and without accomplishing his object.

Cortes, who saw the immediate necessity of carrying the place, determined to lead the storming party himself. He was
then suffering much from the wound in his left hand, which had disabled it for the present. He made the arm
serviceable, however, by fastening his buckler to it, and, thus crippled, sallied out at the head of three hundred
chosen cavaliers, and several thousand of his auxiliaries.

In the courtyard of the temple he found a numerous body of Indians prepared to dispute his passage. He briskly
charged them, but the flat, smooth stones of the pavement were so slippery that the horses lost their footing and many
of them fell. Hastily dismounting, they sent back the animals to their quarters, and, renewing the assault, the
Spaniards succeeded without much difficulty in dispersing the Indian warriors, and opening a free passage for
themselves to the teocalli.

Cortes, having cleared a way for the assault, sprang up the lower stairway, followed by Alvarado, Sandoval, Ordaz,
and the other gallant cavaliers of his little band, leaving a file of arquebusiers and a strong corps of Indian allies
to hold the enemy in check at foot of the monument. On the first landing, as well as on the several galleries above,
and on the summit, the Aztec warriors were drawn up to dispute his passage. From their elevated position they showered
down volleys of lighter missiles, together with heavy stones, beams, and burning rafters, which, thundering along the
stairway, overturned the ascending Spaniards, and carried desolation through their ranks. The more fortunate, eluding
or springing over these obstacles, succeeded in gaining the first terrace, where, throwing themselves on their enemies.
they compelled them, after a short resistance, to fall back. The assailants pressed on, effectually supported by a
brisk fire of the musketeers from below, which so much galled the Mexicans in their exposed situation, that they were
glad to take shelter on the broad summit of the teocalli.

Cortes and his comrades were close upon their rear, and the two parties soon found themselves face to face on this
aerial battle-field, engaged in mortal combat in presence of the whole city, as well as of the troops in the courtyard,
who paused, as if by mutual consent, from their own hostilities, gazing in silent expectation on the issue of those
above. The area, though somewhat smaller than the base of the teocalli, was large enough to afford a fair field of
fight for a thousand combatants. It was paved with broad, flat stones. No impediment occurred over its surface, except
the huge sacrificial block, and the temples of stone which rose to the height of forty feet, at the further extremity
of the arena. One of these had been consecrated to the Cross; the other was still occupied by the Mexican war-god. The
Christian and the Aztec contended for their religions under the very shadow of their respective shrines; while the
Indian priests, running to and fro, with their hair wildly streaming over their sable mantles, seemed hovering in mid
air, like so many demons of darkness urging on the work of slaughter!

The parties closed with the desperate fury of men who had no hope but in victory. Quarter was neither asked nor
given; and to fly was impossible. The edge of the area was unprotected by parapet or battlement. The least slip would
be fatal; and the combatants, as they struggled in mortal agony, were sometimes seen to roll over the sheer sides of
the precipice together. Many of the Aztecs, seeing the fate of such of their comrades as fell into the hands of the
Spaniards, voluntarily threw themselves headlong from the lofty summit and were dashed in pieces on the pavement.

The battle lasted with unintermitting fury for three hours. The number of the enemy was double that of the
Christians; and it seemed as if it were a contest which must be determined by numbers and brute force, rather than by
superior science. But it was not so. The invulnerable armour of the Spaniard, his sword of matchless temper, and his
skill in the use of it, gave him advantages which far outweighed the odds of physical strength and numbers. After doing
all that the courage of despair could enable men to do, resistance grew fainter and fainter on the side of the Aztecs.
One after another they had fallen. Two or three priests only survived to be led away in triumph by the victors. Every
other combatant was stretched a corpse on the bloody arena, or had been hurled from the giddy heights. Yet the loss of
the Spaniards was not inconsiderable. It amounted to forty-five of their best men, and nearly all the remainder were
more or less injured in the desperate conflict.

The victorious cavaliers now rushed towards the sanctuaries. The lower story was of stone; the two upper were of
wood. Penetrating into their recesses, they had the mortification to find the image of the Virgin and the Cross
removed. But in the other edifice they still beheld the grim figure of Huitzilopochtli, with the censer of smoking
hearts, and the walls of his oratory reeking with gore — not improbably of their own countrymen! With shouts of triumph
the Christians tore the uncouth monster from his niche, and tumbled him, in the presence of the horror-struck Aztecs,
down the steps of the teocalli. They then set fire to the accursed building. The flame speedily ran up the slender
towers, sending forth an ominous light over city, lake, and valley, to the remotest hut among the mountains. It was the
funeral pyre of paganism, and proclaimed the fall of that sanguinary religion which had so long hung like a dark cloud
over the fair regions of Anahuac! No achievement in the war struck more awe into the Mexicans than this storming of the
great temple, in which the white men seemed to bid defiance equally to the powers of God and man.

Having accomplished this good work, the Spaniards descended the winding slopes of the teocalli with more free and
buoyant step, as if conscious that the blessing of Heaven now rested on their arms. They passed through the dusky files
of Indian warriors in the courtyard, too much dismayed by the appalling scenes they had witnessed to offer resistance;
and reached their own quarters in safety. That very night they followed up the blow by a sortie on the sleeping town,
and burned three hundred houses, the horrors of conflagration being made still more impressive by occurring at the hour
when the Aztecs, from their own system of warfare, were least prepared for them.

Hoping to find the temper of the natives somewhat subdued by these reverses, Cortes now determined, with his usual
policy, to make them a vantage-ground for proposing terms of accommodation. He accordingly invited the enemy to a
parley, and, as the principal chiefs, attended by their followers, assembled in the great square, he mounted the turret
before occupied by Montezuma, and made signs that he would address them. Marina, as usual, took her place by his side,
as his interpreter. The multitude gazed with earnest curiosity on the Indian girl, whose influence with the Spaniards
was well known, and whose connection with the general, in particular, had led the Aztecs to designate him by her
Mexican name of Malinche. Cortes, speaking through the soft, musical tones of his mistress, told his audience they must
now be convinced that they had nothing further to hope from opposition to the Spaniards. They had seen their gods
trampled in the dust, their altars broken, their dwellings burned, their warriors falling on all sides. “All this,”
continued he, “you have brought on yourselves by your rebellion. Yet for the affection the sovereign, whom you have
unworthily treated, still bears you, I would willingly stay my hand, if you will lay down your arms, and return once
more to your obedience. But, if you do not,” he concluded, “I will make your city a heap of ruins, and leave not a soul
alive to mourn over it!”

But the Spanish commander did not yet comprehend the character of the Aztecs, if he thought to intimidate them by
menaces. Calm in their exterior and slow to move, they were the more difficult to pacify when roused; and now that they
had been stirred to their inmost depths, it was no human voice that could still the tempest. It may be, however, that
Cortes did not so much misconceive the character of the people. He may have felt that an authoritative tone was the
only one he could assume with any chance of effect, in his present position, in which milder and more conciliatory
language would, by intimating a consciousness of inferiority, have too certainly defeated its own object.

It was true, they answered, he had destroyed their temples, broken in pieces their gods, massacred their countrymen.
Many more, doubtless, were yet to fall under their terrible swords. But they were content so long as for every thousand
Mexicans they could shed the blood of a single white man! “Look out,” they continued, “on our terraces and streets, see
them still thronged with warriors as far as your eyes can reach. Our numbers are scarcely diminished by our losses.
Yours, on the contrary, are lessening every hour. You are perishing from hunger and sickness. Your provisions and water
are failing. You must soon fall into our hands. The bridges are broken down, and you cannot escape! There will be too
few of you left to glut the vengeance of our gods!” As they concluded, they sent a volley of arrows over the
battlements, which compelled the Spaniards to descend and take refuge in their defences.

The fierce and indomitable spirit of the Aztecs filled the besieged with dismay. All, then, that they had done and
suffered, their battles by day, their vigils by night, the perils they had braved, even the victories they had won,
were of no avail. It was too evident that they had no longer the spring of ancient superstition to work upon in the
breasts of the natives, who, like some wild beast that has burst the bonds of his keeper, seemed now to swell and exult
in the full consciousness of their strength. The annunciation respecting the bridges fell like a knell on the ears of
the Christians. All that they had heard was too true — and they gazed on one another with looks of anxiety and
dismay.

The same consequences followed, which sometimes take place among the crew of a shipwrecked vessel. Subordination was
lost in the dreadful sense of danger. A spirit of mutiny broke out, especially among the recent levies drawn from the
army of Narvaez. They had come into the country from no motive of ambition, but attracted simply by the glowing reports
of its opulence, and they had fondly hoped to return in a few months with their pockets well lined with the gold of the
Aztec monarch. But how different had been their lot! From the first hour of their landing, they had experienced only
trouble and disaster, privations of every description, sufferings unexampled, and they now beheld in perspective a fate
yet more appalling. Bitterly did they lament the hour when they left the sunny fields of Cuba for these cannibal
regions! And heartily did they curse their own folly in listening to the call of Velasquez, and still more in embarking
under the banner of Cortes!

They now demanded with noisy vehemence to be led instantly from the city, and refused to serve longer in defence of
a place where they were cooped up like sheep in the shambles, waiting only to be dragged to slaughter. In all this they
were rebuked by the more orderly soldier-like conduct of the veterans of Cortes. These latter had shared with their
general the day of his prosperity, and they were not disposed to desert him in the tempest. It was, indeed, obvious, on
a little reflection, that the only chance of safety, in the existing crisis, rested on subordination and union; and
that even this chance must be greatly diminished under any other leader than their present one.

Thus pressed by enemies without and by factions within, that leader was found, as usual, true to himself.
Circumstances so appalling as would have paralysed a common mind, only stimulated his to higher action, and drew forth
all its resources. He combined what is most rare, singular coolness and constancy of purpose, with a spirit of
enterprise that might well be called romantic. His presence of mind did not now desert him. He calmly surveyed his
condition, and weighed the difficulties which surrounded him, before coming to a decision. Independently of the hazard
of a retreat in the face of a watchful and desperate foe, it was a deep mortification to surrender up the city, where
he had so long lorded it as a master; to abandon the rich treasures which he had secured to himself and his followers;
to forego the very means by which he had hoped to propitiate the favour of his sovereign, and secure an amnesty for his
irregular proceedings. This, he well knew, must, after all, be dependent on success. To fly now was to acknowledge
himself further removed from the conquest than ever. What a close was this to a career so auspiciously begun! What a
contrast to his magnificent vaunts! What a triumph would it afford to his enemies! The governor of Cuba would be amply
revenged.

But, if such humiliating reflections crowded on his mind, the alternative of remaining, in his present crippled
condition, seemed yet more desperate. With his men daily diminishing in strength and numbers, their provisions reduced
so low that a small daily ration of bread was all the sustenance afforded to the soldier under his extraordinary
fatigues, with the breaches every day widening in his feeble fortifications, with his ammunition, in fine, nearly
expended, it would be impossible to maintain the place much longer — and none but men of iron constitutions and
tempers, like the Spaniards, could have held it out so long — against the enemy. The chief embarrassment was as to the
time and manner in which it would be expedient to evacuate the city. The best route seemed to be that of Tlacopan
(Tacuba). For the causeway, the most dangerous part of the road, was but two miles long in that direction, and would
therefore place the fugitives much sooner than either of the other great avenues on terra firma. Before his final
departure, however, he proposed to make another sally in that direction, in order to reconnoitre the ground, and, at
the same time, divert the enemy’s attention from his real purpose by a show of active operations.

For some days his workmen had been employed in constructing a military machine of his own invention. It was called a
manta, and was contrived somewhat on the principle of the mantelets used in the wars of the Middle Ages. It was,
however, more complicated, consisting of a tower made of light beams and planks, having two chambers, one over the
other. These were to be filled with musketeers, and the sides were provided with loop-holes, through which a fire could
be kept up on the enemy. The great advantage proposed by this contrivance was, to afford a defence to the troops
against the missiles hurled from the terraces. These machines, three of which were made, rested on rollers, and were
provided with strong ropes, by which they were to be dragged along the streets by the Tlascalan auxiliaries.

The Mexicans gazed with astonishment on this warlike machinery, and, as the rolling fortresses advanced, belching
forth fire and smoke from their entrails, the enemy, incapable of making an impression on those within, fell back in
dismay. By bringing the mantas under the walls of the houses, the Spaniards were enabled to fire with effect on the
mischievous tenants of the azoteas, and when this did not silence them, by letting a ladder, or light drawbridge, fall
on the roof from the top of the manta, they opened a passage to the terrace, and closed with the combatants hand to
hand. They could not, however, thus approach the higher buildings, from which the Indian warriors threw down such heavy
masses of stone and timber as dislodged the planks that covered the machines, or, thundering against their sides, shook
the frail edifices to their foundations, threatening all within with indiscriminate ruin. Indeed, the success of the
experiment was doubtful, when the intervention of a canal put a stop to their further progress.

The Spaniards now found the assertion of their enemies too well confirmed. The bridge which traversed the opening
had been demolished; and, although the canals which intersected the city were in general of no great width or depth,
the removal of the bridges not only impeded the movements of the general’s clumsy machines, but effectually
disconcerted those of his cavalry. Resolving to abandon the mantas, he gave orders to fill up the chasm with stone,
timber, and other rubbish drawn from the ruined buildings, and to make a new passage-way for the army. While this
labour was going on, the Aztec slingers and archers on the other side of the opening kept up a galling discharge on the
Christians, the more defenceless from the nature of their occupation. When the work was completed, and a safe passage
secured, the Spanish cavaliers rode briskly against the enemy, who, unable to resist the shock of the steel-clad
column, fell back with precipitation to where another canal afforded a similar strong position for defence.

There were no less than seven of these canals, intersecting the great street of Tlacopan, and at every one the same
scene was renewed, the Mexicans making a gallant stand, and inflicting some loss, at each, on their persevering
antagonists. These operations consumed two days, when, after incredible toil, the Spanish general had the satisfaction
to find the line of communication completely re-established through the whole length of the avenue, and the principal
bridges placed under strong detachments of infantry. At this juncture, when he had driven the foe before him to the
furthest extremity of the street, where it touches on the causeway, he was informed that the Mexicans, disheartened by
their reverses, desired to open a parley with him respecting the terms of an accommodation, and that their chiefs
awaited his return for that purpose at the fortress. Overjoyed at the intelligence, he instantly rode back, attended by
Alvarado, Sandoval, and about sixty of the cavaliers, to his quarters.

The Mexicans proposed that he should release the two priests captured in the temple, who might be the bearers of his
terms, and serve as agents for conducting the negotiation. They were accordingly sent with the requisite instructions
to their countrymen. But they did not return. The whole was an artifice of the enemy, anxious to procure the liberation
of their religious leaders, one of whom was their teoteuctli, or high-priest, whose presence was indispensable in the
probable event of a new coronation.

Cortes, meanwhile, relying on the prospects of a speedy arrangement, was hastily taking some refreshment with his
officers, after the fatigues of the day, when he received the alarming tidings that the enemy were in arms again, with
more fury than ever; that they had overpowered the detachments posted under Alvarado at three of the bridges, and were
busily occupied in demolishing them. Stung with shame at the facility with which he had been duped by his wily foe, or
rather by his own sanguine hopes, Cortes threw himself into the saddle, and, followed by his brave companions, galloped
back at full speed to the scene of action. The Mexicans recoiled before the impetuous charge of the Spaniards. The
bridges were again restored; and Cortes and his chivalry rode down the whole extent of the great street, driving the
enemy, like frightened deer, at the points of their lances. But before he could return on his steps, he had the
mortification to find, that the indefatigable foe, gathering from the adjoining lanes and streets, had again closed on
his infantry, who, worn down by fatigue, were unable to maintain their position, at one of the principal bridges. New
swarms of warriors now poured in on all sides, overwhelming the little band of Christian cavaliers with a storm of
stones, darts, and arrows, which rattled like hail on their armour and on that of their well-barbed horses. Most of the
missiles, indeed, glanced harmless from the good panoplies of steel, or thick quilted cotton; but, now and then, one
better aimed penetrated the joints of the harness, and stretched the rider on the ground.

The confusion became greater around the broken bridge. Some of the horsemen were thrown into the canal, and their
steeds floundered wildly about without a rider. Cortes himself, at this crisis, did more than any other to cover the
retreat of his followers. While the bridge was repairing, he plunged boldly into the midst of the barbarians, striking
down an enemy at every vault of his charger, cheering on his own men, and spreading terror through the ranks of his
opponents by the well-known sound of his battle-cry. Never did he display greater hardihood, or more freely expose his
person, emulating, says an old chronicler, the feats of the Roman Cocles. In this way he stayed the tide of assailants,
till the last man had crossed the bridge, when, some of the planks having given way, he was compelled to leap a chasm
of full six feet in width, amidst a cloud of missiles, before he could place himself in safety. A report ran through
the army that the general was slain. It soon spread through the city, to the great joy of the Mexicans, and reached the
fortress, where the besieged were thrown into no less consternation. But, happily for them, it was false. He, indeed,
received two severe contusions on the knee, but in other respects remained uninjured. At no time, however, had he been
in such extreme danger; and his escape, and that of his companions, were esteemed little less than a miracle.

The coming of night dispersed the Indian battalions, which, vanishing like birds of ill-omen from the field, left
the well-contested pass in possession of the Spaniards. They returned, however, with none of the joyous feelings of
conquerors to their citadel, but with slow step and dispirited, with weapons hacked, armour battered, and fainting
under the loss of blood, fasting, and fatigue. In this condition they had yet to learn the tidings of a fresh
misfortune in the death of Montezuma.

The Indian monarch had rapidly declined, since he had received his injury, sinking, however, quite as much under the
anguish of a wounded spirit, as under disease. He continued in the same moody state of insensibility as that already
described; holding little communication with those around him, deaf to consolation, obstinately rejecting all medical
remedies, as well as nourishment. Perceiving his end approach, some of the cavaliers present in the fortress, whom the
kindness of his manners had personally attached to him, were anxious to save the soul of the dying prince from the sad
doom of those who perish in the darkness of unbelief. They accordingly waited on him, with Father Olmedo at their head,
and in the most earnest manner implored him to open his eyes to the error of his creed, and consent to be baptised. But
Montezuma — whatever may have been suggested to the contrary — seems never to have faltered in his hereditary faith, or
to have contemplated becoming an apostate; for surely he merits that name in its most odious application, who, whether
Christian or pagan, renounces his religion without conviction of its falsehood. Indeed, it was a too implicit reliance
on its oracles, which had led him to give such easy confidence to the Spaniards. His intercourse with them had,
doubtless, not sharpened his desire to embrace their communion; and the calamities of his country he might consider as
sent by his gods to punish him for his hospitality to those who had desecrated and destroyed their shrines.

When Father Olmedo, therefore, kneeling at his side, with the uplifted crucifix, affectionately besought him to
embrace the sign of man’s redemption, he coldly repulsed the priest, exclaiming, “I have but a few moments to live; and
will. not at this hour desert the faith of my fathers.” One thing, however, seemed to press heavily on Montezuma’s
mind. This was the fate of his children, especially of three daughters, whom he had by his two wives; for there were
certain rites of marriage, which distinguished the lawful wife from the concubine. Calling Cortes to his bedside, he
earnestly commended these children to his care, as “the most precious jewels that he could leave him.” He besought the
general to interest his master, the emperor, in their behalf, and to see that they should not be left destitute, but be
allowed some portion of their rightful inheritance. “Your lord will do this,” he concluded, “if it were only for the
friendly offices I have rendered the Spaniards, and for the love I have shown them — though it has brought me to this
condition! But for this I bear them no ill-will.” Such, according to Cortes himself, were the words of the dying
monarch. Not long after, on the 30th of June, 1520, he expired in the arms of some of his own nobles, who still
remained faithful in their attendance on his person.

Montezuma, at the time of his death, was about forty-one years old, of which he reigned eighteen. His person and
manners have been already described. He left a numerous progeny by his various wives, most of whom, having lost their
consideration after the Conquest, fell into obscurity as they mingled with the mass of the Indian population. Two of
them, however, a son and a daughter, who embraced Christianity, became the founders of noble houses in Spain. The
government, willing to show its gratitude for the large extent of empire derived from their ancestor, conferred on them
ample estates, and important hereditary honours; and the Counts of Montezuma and Tula, intermarrying with the best
blood of Castile, intimated by their names and titles their illustrious descent from the royal dynasty of Mexico.

Montezuma’s death was a misfortune to the Spaniards. While he lived, they had a precious pledge in their hands,
which, in extremity they might possibly have turned to account. Now the last link was snapped which connected them with
the natives of the country. But independently of interested feelings, Cortes and his officers were much affected by his
death from personal considerations; and, when they gazed on the cold remains of the ill-starred monarch, they may have
felt a natural compunction as they contrasted his late flourishing condition with that to which his friendship for them
had now reduced him.

The Spanish commander showed all respect for his memory. His body, arrayed in its royal robes, was laid decently on
a bier, and borne on the shoulders of his nobles to his subjects in the city. What honours, if any, indeed, were paid
to his remains, is uncertain. A sound of wailing, distinctly heard in the western quarters of the capital, was
interpreted by the Spaniards into the moans of a funeral procession, as it bore the body to be laid among those of his
ancestors, under the princely shades of Chapoltepec. Others state, that it was removed to a burial-place in the city
named Copalco, and there burnt with the usual solemnities and signs of lamentation by his chiefs, but not without some
unworthy insults from the Mexican populace. Whatever be the fact, the people, occupied with the stirring scenes in
which they were engaged, were probably not long mindful of the monarch, who had taken no share in their late patriotic
movements. Nor is it strange that the very memory of his sepulchre should be effaced in the terrible catastrophe which
afterwards overwhelmed the capital, and swept away every landmark from its surface.

Chapter III 1520

COUNCIL OF WAR— SPANIARDS EVACUATE THE CITY— NOCHE TRISTE, OR “THE MELANCHOLY NIGHT” — TERRIBLE
SLAUGHTER— HALT FOR THE NIGHT— AMOUNT OF LOSSES

THERE was no longer any question as to the expediency of evacuating the capital. The only doubt was as to the time
of doing so, and the route. The Spanish commander called a council of officers to deliberate on these matters. It was
his purpose to retreat on Tlascala, and in that capital to decide according to circumstances on his future operations.
After some discussion, they agreed on the causeway of Tlacopan as the avenue by which to leave the city. It would,
indeed, take them back by a circuitous route, considerably longer than either of those by which they had approached the
capital. But, for that reason, it would be less likely to be guarded, as least suspected; and the causeway, itself
being shorter than either of the other entrances, would sooner place the army in comparative security on the main
land.

There was some difference of opinion in respect to the hour of departure. The day-time, it was argued by some, would
be preferable, since it would enable them to see the nature and extent of their danger, and to provide against it.
Darkness would be much more likely to embarrass their own movements than those of the enemy, who were familiar with the
ground. A thousand impediments would occur in the night, which might prevent their acting in concert, or obeying, or
even ascertaining, the orders of the commander. But, on the other hand, it was urged, that the night presented many
obvious advantages in dealing with a foe who rarely carried his hostilities beyond the day. The late active operations
of the Spaniards had thrown the Mexicans off their guard, and it was improbable they would anticipate so speedy a
departure of their enemies. With celerity and caution they might succeed, therefore, in making their escape from the
town, possibly over the causeway, before their retreat should be discovered; and, could they once get beyond that pass
of peril, they felt little apprehension for the rest.

These views were fortified, it is said, by the counsels of a soldier named Botello, who professed the mysterious
science of judicial astrology. He had gained credit with the army by some predictions which had been verified by the
events; those lucky hits which make chance pass for calculation with the credulous multitude. This man recommended to
his countrymen by all means to evacuate the place in the night, as the hour most propitious to them, although he should
perish in it. The event proved the astrologer better acquainted with his own horoscope than with that of others.

It is possible Botello’s predictions had some weight in determining the opinion of Cortes. Superstition was the
feature of the age, and the Spanish general, as we have seen, had a full measure of its bigotry. Seasons of gloom,
moreover, dispose the mind to a ready acquiescence in the marvellous. It is, however, quite as probable that he made
use of the astrologer’s opinion, finding it coincided with his own, to influence that of his men, and inspire them with
higher confidence. At all events, it was decided to abandon the city that very night.

The general’s first care was to provide for the safe transportation of the treasure. Many of the common soldiers had
converted their share of the prize, as we have seen, into gold chains, collars, or other ornaments, which they easily
carried about their persons. But the royal fifth, together with that of Cortes himself, and much of the rich booty of
the principal cavaliers had been converted into bars and wedges of solid gold, and deposited in one of the strong
apartments of the palace. Cortes delivered the share belonging to the crown to the royal officers, assigning them one
of the strongest horses, and a guard of Castilian soldiers to transport it. Still, much of the treasure belonging both
to the crown and to individuals was necessarily abandoned, from the want of adequate means of conveyance. The metal lay
scattered in shining heaps along the floor, exciting the cupidity of the soldiers. “Take what you will of it,” said
Cortes to his men. “Better you should have it than these Mexican hounds. But be careful not to overload yourselves. He
travels safest in the dark night who travels lightest.” His own more wary followers took heed to his counsel, helping
themselves to a few articles of least bulk, though, it might be, of greatest value. But the troops of Narvaez, pining
for riches, of which they had heard so much, and hitherto seen so little, showed no such discretion. To them it seemed
as if the very mines of Mexico were turned up before them, and, rushing on the treacherous spoil, they greedily loaded
themselves with as much of it, not merely as they could accommodate about their persons, but as they could stow away in
wallets, boxes, or any other mode of conveyance at their disposal.

Cortes next arranged the order of march. The van, composed of two hundred Spanish foot, he placed under the command
of the valiant Gonzalo de Sandoval, supported by Diego de Ordaz, Francisco de Lugo, and about twenty other cavaliers.
The rear-guard, constituting the strength of the infantry, was intrusted to Pedro de Alvarado and Velasquez de Leon.
The general himself took charge of the “battle,” or centre, in which went the baggage, some of the heavy guns, most of
which, however, remained in the rear, the treasure, and the prisoners. These consisted of a son and two daughters of
Montezuma, Cacama, the deposed lord of Tezcuco, and several other nobles, whom Cortes retained as important pledges in
his future negotiations with the enemy. The Tlascalans were distributed pretty equally among the three divisions; and
Cortes had under his immediate command a hundred picked soldiers, his own veterans most attached to his service, who,
with Christoval de Olid, Francisco de Morla, Alonso de Avila, and two or three other cavaliers, formed a select corps,
to act wherever occasion might require.

The general had already superintended the construction of a portable bridge to be laid over the open canals in the
causeway. This was given in charge to an officer named Magarino, with forty soldiers under his orders, all pledged to
defend the passage to the last extremity. The bridge was to be taken up when the entire army had crossed one of the
breaches, and transported to the next. There were three of these openings in the causeway, and most fortunate would it
have been for the expedition, if the foresight of the commander had provided the same number of bridges. But the labour
would have been great, and time was short.

At midnight the troops were under arms, in readiness for the march. Mass was performed by Father Olmedo, who invoked
the protection of the Almighty through the awful perils of the night. The gates were thrown open, and, on the first of
July, 1520, the Spaniards for the last time sallied forth from the walls of the ancient fortress, the scene of so much
suffering and such indomitable courage.

The night was cloudy, and a drizzling rain, which fell without intermission, added to the obscurity. The great
square before the palace was deserted, as, indeed, it had been since the fall of Montezuma. Steadily, and as
noiselessly as possible, the Spaniards held their way along the great street of Tlacopan, which so lately had resounded
to the tumult of battle. All was now hushed in silence; and they were only reminded of the past by the occasional
presence of some solitary corpse, or a dark heap of the slain, which too plainly told where the strife had been
hottest. As they passed along the lanes and alleys which opened into the great street, or looked down the canals, whose
polished surface gleamed with a sort of ebon lustre through the obscurity of night, they easily fancied that they
discerned the shadowy forms of their foe lurking in ambush, and ready to spring on them. But it was only fancy; and the
city slept undisturbed even by the prolonged echoes of the tramp of the horses, and the hoarse rumbling of the
artillery and baggage trains. At length a lighter space beyond the dusky line of buildings showed the van of the army
that it was emerging on the open causeway. They might well have congratulated themselves on having thus escaped the
dangers of an assault in the city itself, and that a brief time would place them in comparative safety on the opposite
shore. But the Mexicans were not all asleep.

As the Spaniards drew near the spot where the street opened on the causeway, and were preparing to lay the portable
bridge across the uncovered breach which now met their eyes, several Indian sentinels, who had been stationed at this,
as at the other approaches to the city, took the alarm, and fled, rousing their countrymen by their cries. The priests,
keeping their night watch on the summit of the teocallis, instantly caught the tidings and sounded their shells, while
the huge drum in the desolite temple of the war-god sent forth those solemn tones, which, heard only in seasons of
calamity, vibrated through every corner of the capital. The Spaniards saw that no time was to be lost. The bridge was
brought forward and fitted with all possible expedition. Sandoval was the first to try its strength, and, riding
across, was followed by his little body of chivalry, his infantry, and Tlascalan allies, who formed the first division
of the army. Then came Cortes and his squadrons, with the baggage, ammunition wagons, and a part of the artillery. But
before they had time to defile across the narrow passage, a gathering sound was heard, like that of a mighty forest
agitated by the winds. It grew louder and louder, while on the dark waters of the lake was heard a splashing noise, as
of many oars. Then came a few stones and arrows striking at random among the hurrying troops. They fell every moment
faster and more furious, till they thickened into a terrible tempest, while the very heavens were rent with the yells
and war-cries of myriads of combatants, who seemed all at once to be swarming over land and lake!

The Spaniards pushed steadily on through this arrowy sleet, though the barbarians, dashing their canoes against the
sides of the causeway, clambered up and broke in upon their ranks. But the Christians, anxious only to make their
escape, declined all combat except for self-preservation. The cavaliers, spurring forward their steeds, shook off their
assailants, and rode over their prostrate bodies, while the men on foot with their good swords or the butts of their
pieces drove them headlong again down the sides of the dike.

But the advance of several thousand men, marching, probably, on a front of not more than fifteen or twenty abreast,
necessarily required much time, and the leading files had already reached the second breach in the causeway before
those in the rear had entirely traversed the first. Here they halted; as they had no means of effecting a passage,
smarting all the while under unintermitting volleys from the enemy, who were clustered thick on the waters around this
second opening. Sorely distressed, the vanguard sent repeated messages to the rear to demand the portable bridge. At
length the last of the army had crossed, and Magarino and his sturdy followers endeavoured to raise the ponderous
framework. But it stuck fast in the sides of the dike. In vain they strained every nerve. The weight of so many men and
horses, and above all of the heavy artillery, had wedged the timbers so firmly in the stones and earth, that it was
beyond their power to dislodge them. Still they laboured amidst a torrent of missiles, until, many of them slain, and
all wounded, they were obliged to abandon the attempt.

The tidings soon spread from man to man, and no sooner was their dreadful import comprehended, than a cry of despair
arose, which for a moment drowned all the noise of conflict. All means of retreat were cut off. Scarcely hope was left.
The only hope was in such desperate exertions as each could make for himself. Order and subordination were at an end.
Intense danger produced intense selfishness. Each thought only of his own life. Pressing forward, he trampled down the
weak and the wounded, heedless whether it were friend or foe. The leading files, urged on by the rear, were crowded on
the brink of the gulf. Sandoval, Ordaz, and the other cavaliers dashed into the water. Some succeeded in swimming their
horses across; others failed, and some, who reached the opposite bank, being overturned in the ascent, rolled headlong
with their steeds into the lake. The infantry followed pellmell, heaped promiscuously on one another, frequently
pierced by the shafts, or struck down by the war-clubs of the Aztecs; while many an unfortunate victim was dragged
half-stunned on board their canoes, to be reserved for a protracted, but more dreadful death.

The carnage raged fearfully along the length of the causeway. Its shadowy bulk presented a mark of sufficient
distinctness for the enemy’s missiles, which often prostrated their own countrymen in the blind fury of the tempest.
Those nearest the dike, running their canoes alongside, with a force that shattered them to pieces, leaped on the land
and grappled with the Christians, until both came rolling down the side of the causeway together. But the Aztec fell
among his friends, while his antagonist was borne away in triumph to the sacrifice. The struggle was long and deadly.
The Mexicans were recognised by their white cotton tunics, which showed faint through the darkness. Above the
combatants rose a wild and discordant clamour, in which horrid shouts of vengeance were mingled with groans of agony,
with invocations of the saints and the blessed Virgin, and with the screams of women; for there were several women,
both native and Spaniards, who had accompanied the Christian camp. Among these, one named Maria de Estrada is
particularly noticed for the courage she displayed, battling with broadsword and target like the staunchest of the
warriors.

The opening in the causeway, meanwhile, was filled up with the wreck of matter which had been forced into it,
ammunition wagons, heavy guns, bales of rich stuffs scattered over the waters, chests of solid ingots, and bodies of
men and horses, till over this dismal ruin a passage was gradually formed, by which those in the rear were enabled to
clamber to the other side. Cortes, it is said, found a place that was fordable, where halting with the water up to his
saddle-girths, he endeavoured to check the confusion, and lead his followers by a safer path to the opposite bank. But
his voice was lost in the wild uproar, and finally, hurrying on with the tide, he pressed forward with a few trusty
cavaliers, who remained near his person, to the van; but not before he had seen his favourite page, Juan de Salazar,
struck down, a corpse, by his side. Here he found Sandoval and his companions, halting before the third and last
breach, endeavouring to cheer on their followers to surmount it. But their resolution faltered. It was wide and deep;
though the passage was not so closely beset by the enemy as the preceding ones. The cavaliers again set the example by
plunging into the water. Horse and foot followed as they could, some swimming, others with dying grasp clinging to the
manes and tails of the struggling animals. Those fared best, as the general had predicted, who travelled lightest; and
many were the unfortunate wretches, who, weighed down by the fatal gold which they loved so well, were buried with it
in the salt floods of the lake. Cortes, with his gallant comrades, Olid, Morla, Sandoval, and some few others, still
kept in the advance, leading his broken remnant off the fatal causeway. The din of battle lessened in the distance;
when the rumour reached them, that the rear-guard would be wholly overwhelmed without speedy relief. It seemed almost
an act of desperation; but the generous hearts of the Spanish cavaliers did not stop to calculate danger when the cry
for succour reached them. Turning their horses’ bridles, they galloped back to the theatre of action, worked their way
through the press, swam the canal, and placed themselves in the thick of the melee on the opposite bank.

The first grey of the morning was now coming over the waters. It showed the hideous confusion of the scene which had
been shrouded in the obscurity of night. The dark masses of combatants, stretching along the dike, were seen struggling
for mastery, until the very causeway on which they stood appeared to tremble, and reel to and fro, as if shaken by an
earthquake; while the bosom of the lake, as far as the eye could reach, was darkened by canoes crowded with warriors,
whose spears and bludgeons, armed with blades of “volcanic glass,” gleamed in the morning light.

The cavaliers found Alvarado unhorsed, and defending himself with a poor handful of followers against an
overwhelming tide of the enemy. His good steed, which had borne him through many a hard fight, had fallen under him. He
was himself wounded in several places, and was striving in vain to rally his scattered column, which was driven to the
verge of the canal by the fury of the enemy, then in possession of the whole rear of the causeway, where they were
reinforced every hour by fresh combatants from the city. The artillery in the earlier part of the engagement had not
been idle, and its iron shower, sweeping along the dike, had mowed down the assailants by hundreds. But nothing could
resist their impetuosity. The front ranks, pushed on by those behind, were at length forced up to the pieces, and,
pouring over them like a torrent, overthrew men and guns in one general ruin. The resolute charge of the Spanish
cavaliers, who had now arrived, created a temporary check, and gave time for their countrymen to make a feeble rally.
But they were speedily borne down by the returning flood. Cortes and his companions were compelled to plunge again into
the lake — though all did not escape. Alvarado stood on the brink for a moment, hesitating what to do. Unhorsed as he
was, to throw himself into the water in the face of the hostile canoes that now swarmed around the opening, afforded
but a desperate chance of safety. He had but a second for thought. He was a man of powerful frame, and despair gave him
unnatural energy. Setting his long lance firmly on the wreck which strewed the bottom of the lake, he sprung forward
with all his might, and cleared the wide gap at a leap! Aztecs and Tlascalans gazed in stupid amazement, exclaiming, as
they beheld the incredible feat, “This is truly the Tonatiuh — the child of the Sun!”— The breadth of the opening is
not given. But it was so great, that the valorous Captain Diaz, who well remembered the place, says the leap was
impossible to any man. Other contemporaries, however, do not discredit the story.

Cortes and his companions now rode forward to the front, where the troops in a loose, disorderly manner, were
marching off the fatal causeway. A few only of the enemy hung on their rear, or annoyed them by occasional flights of
arrows from the lake. The attention of the Aztecs was diverted by the rich spoil that strewed the battle-ground;
fortunately for the Spaniards, who, had their enemy pursued with the same ferocity with which he had fought, would, in
their crippled condition, have been cut off, probably to a man. But little molested, therefore, they were allowed to
defile through the adjacent village, or suburbs, it might be called, of Popotla.

The Spanish commander there dismounted from his jaded steed, and, sitting down on the steps of an Indian temple,
gazed mournfully on the broken files as they passed before him. What a spectacle did they present! The cavalry, most of
them dismounted, were mingled with the infantry, who dragged their feeble limbs along with difficulty; their shattered
mail and tattered garments dripping with the salt ooze, showing through their rents many a bruise and ghastly wound;
their bright arms soiled, their proud crests and banners gone, the baggage, artillery — all, in short, that constitutes
the pride and panoply of glorious war, for ever lost. Cortes, as he looked wistfully on their thinned and disordered
ranks, sought in vain for many a familiar face, and missed more than one dear companion who had stood side by side with
him through all the perils of the Conquest. Though accustomed to control his emotions, or, at least, to conceal them,
the sight was too much for him. He covered his face with his hands, and the tears which trickled down revealed too
plainly the anguish of his soul.

He found some consolation, however, in the sight of several of the cavaliers on whom he most relied. Alvarado,
Sandoval, Olid, Ordaz, Avila, were yet safe. He had the inexpressible satisfaction, also, of learning the safety of the
Indian interpreter, Marina, so dear to him, and so important to the army. She had been committed with a daughter of a
Tlascalan chief, to several of that nation. She was fortunately placed in the van, and her faithful escort had carried
her securely through all the dangers of the night. Aguilar, the other interpreter, had also escaped; and it was with no
less satisfaction that Cortes learned the safety of the ship-builder, Martin Lopez. The general’s solicitude for the
fate of this man, so indispensable, as he proved, to the success of his subsequent operations, showed that amidst all
his affliction, his indomitable spirit was looking forward to the hour of vengeance.

Meanwhile, the advancing column had reached the neighbouring city of Tlacopan (Tacuba), once the capital of an
independent principality. There it halted in the great street, as if bewildered and altogether uncertain what course to
take. Cortes, who had hastily mounted and rode on to the front again, saw the danger of remaining in a populous place,
where the inhabitants might sorely annoy the troops from the azoteas, with little risk to themselves. Pushing forward,
therefore, he soon led them into the country. There he endeavoured to reform his disorganised battalions, and bring
them to something like order.

Hard by, at no great distance on the left, rose an eminence, looking towards a chain of mountains which fences in
the valley on the west. It was called the Hill of Otoncalpolco, and sometimes the Hill of Montezuma. It was crowned
with an Indian teocalli, with its large outworks of stone covering an ample space, and by its strong position, which
commanded the neighbouring plain, promised a good place of refuge for the exhausted troops. But the men, disheartened
and stupefied by their late reverses, seemed for the moment incapable of further exertion; and the place was held by a
body of armed Indians. Cortes saw the necessity of dislodging them, if he would save the remains of his army from
entire destruction. The event showed he still held a control over their wills stronger than circumstances themselves.
Cheering them on, and supported by his gallant cavaliers, he succeeded in infusing into the most sluggish something of
his own intrepid temper, and led them up the ascent in face of the enemy. But the latter made slight resistance, and
after a few feeble volleys of missiles which did little injury, left the ground to the assailants.

It was covered by a building of considerable size, and furnished ample accommodations for the diminished numbers of
the Spaniards. They found there some provisions; and more, it is said, were brought to them in the course of the day
from some friendly Otomie villages in the neighbourhood. There was, also, a quantity of fuel in the courts, destined to
the uses of the temple. With this they made fires to dry their drenched garments, and busily employed themselves in
dressing one another’s wounds, stiff and extremely painful from exposure and long exertion. Thus refreshed, the weary
soldiers threw themselves down on the floor and courts of the temple, and soon found the temporary oblivion which
Nature seldom denies even in the greatest extremity of suffering.

There was one eye in that assembly, however, which we may well believe did not so speedily close. For what agitating
thoughts must have crowded on the mind of their commander, as he beheld his poor remnant of followers thus huddled
together in this miserable bivouac! And this was all that survived of the brilliant array with which but a few weeks
since he had entered the capital of Mexico! Where now were his dreams of conquest and empire? And what was he but a
luckless adventurer, at whom the finger of scorn would be uplifted as a madman? Whichever way he turned, the horizon
was almost equally gloomy, with scarcely one light spot to cheer him. He had still a weary journey before him, through
perilous and unknown paths, with guides of whose fidelity he could not be assured. And how could he rely on his
reception at Tlascala, the place of his destination; the land of his ancient enemies; where, formerly as a foe, and now
as a friend, he had brought desolation to every family within its borders?

Yet these agitating and gloomy reflections, which might have crushed a common mind, had no power over that of
Cortes; or rather, they only served to renew his energies, and quicken his perceptions, as the war of the elements
purifies and gives elasticity to the atmosphere. He looked with an unblenching eye on his past reverses; but, confident
in his own resources, he saw a light through the gloom which others could not. Even in the shattered relics which lay
around him, resembling in their haggard aspect and wild attire a horde of famished outlaws, he discerned the materials
out of which to reconstruct his ruined fortunes. In the very hour of discomfiture and general despondency, there is no
doubt that his heroic spirit was meditating the plan of operations which he afterwards pursued with such dauntless
constancy.

The loss sustained by the Spaniards on this fatal night, like every other event in the history of the Conquest, is
reported with the greatest discrepancy. If we believe Cortes’ own letter, it did not exceed one hundred and fifty
Spaniards and two thousand Indians. But the general’s bulletins, while they do full justice to the difficulties to be
overcome, and the importance of the results, are less scrupulous in stating the extent either of his means or of his
losses. Thoan Cano, one of the cavaliers present, estimates the slain at eleven hundred and seventy Spaniards, and
eight thousand allies. But this is a greater number than we have allowed for the whole army. Perhaps we may come
nearest the truth by taking the computation of Gomara, the chaplain of Cortes, who had free access doubtless, not only
to the general’s papers, but to other authentic sources of information. According to him, the number of Christians
killed and missing was four hundred and fifty, and that of natives four thousand. This, with the loss sustained in the
conflicts of the previous week, may have reduced the former to something more than a third, and the latter to a fourth,
or, perhaps, fifth, of the original force with which they entered the capital. The brunt of the action fell on the
rear-guard, few of whom escaped. It was formed chiefly of the soldiers of Narvaez, who fell the victims in some measure
of their cupidity. Forty-six of the cavalry were cut off, which with previous losses reduced the number in this branch
of the service to twenty-three, and some of these in very poor condition. The greater part of the treasure, the
baggage, the general’s papers, including his accounts, and a minute diary of transactions since leaving Cuba — which,
to posterity, at least, would have been of more worth than the gold — had been swallowed up by the waters. The
ammunition, the beautiful little train of artillery, with which Cortes had entered the city, were all gone. Not a
musket even remained, the men having thrown them away, eager to disencumber themselves of all that might retard their
escape on that disastrous night. Nothing, in short, of their military apparatus was left, but their swords, their
crippled cavalry, and a few damaged crossbows, to assert the superiority of the European over the barbarian.

The prisoners, including, as already noticed, the children of Montezuma and the cacique of Tezcuco, all perished by
the hands of their ignorant countrymen, it is said, in the indiscriminate fury of the assault. There were, also, some
persons of consideration among the Spaniards, whose names were inscribed on the same bloody roll of slaughter. Such was
Francisco de Morla, who fell by the side of Cortes, on returning with him to the rescue. But the greatest loss was that
of Juan Velasquez de Leon, who, with Alvarado, had command of the rear. It was the post of danger on that night, and he
fell, bravely defending it, at an early part of the retreat. There was no cavalier in the army, with the exception,
perhaps, of Sandoval and Alvarado, whose loss would have been so deeply deplored by the commander. Such were the
disastrous results of this terrible passage of the causeway; more disastrous than those occasioned by any other reverse
which has stained the Spanish arms in the New World; and which have branded the night on which it happened, in the
national annals, with the name of the noche triste, “the sad or melancholy night.”

Chapter IV 1520

THE SPANIARDS RETREAT— DISTRESSES OF THE ARMY— GREAT BATTLE OF OTUMBA

THE Mexicans, during the day which followed the retreat of the Spaniards, remained, for the most part, quiet in
their own capital, where they found occupation in cleansing the streets and causeways from the dead, which lay
festering in heaps that might have bred a pestilence. They may have been employed, also, in paying the last honours to
such of their warriors as had fallen, solemnising the funeral rites by the sacrifice of their wretched prisoners, who,
as they contemplated their own destiny, may well have envied the fate of their companions who left their bones on the
battle-field. It was most fortunate for the Spaniards, in their extremity, that they had this breathing-time allowed
them by the enemy. But Cortes knew that he could not calculate on its continuance, and, feeling how important it was to
get the start of his vigilant foe, he ordered his troops to be in readiness to resume their march by midnight. Fires
were left burning, the better to deceive the enemy; and at the appointed hour, the little army, without sound of drum
or trumpet, but with renewed spirits, sallied forth from the gates of the teocalli.

It was arranged that the sick and wounded should occupy the centre, transported on litters, or on the backs of the
tamanes, while those who were strong enough to keep their seats should mount behind the cavalry. The able-bodied
soldiers were ordered to the front and rear, while others protected the flanks, thus affording all the security
possible to the invalids.

The retreating army held on its way unmolested under cover of the darkness. But, as morning dawned, they beheld
parties of the natives moving over the heights, or hanging at a distance, like a cloud of locusts on their rear. They
did not belong to the capital; but were gathered from the neighbouring country, where the tidings of their rout had
already penetrated. The charm, which had hitherto covered the white men, was gone.

The Spaniards, under the conduct of their Tlascalan guides, took a circuitous route to the north, passing through
Quauhtitlan, and round lake Tzompanco (Zumpango), thus lengthening their march, but keeping at a distance from the
capital. From the eminences, as they passed along, the Indians rolled down heavy stones, mingled with volleys of darts
and arrows on the heads of the soldiers. Some were even bold enough to descend into the plain and assault the
extremities of the column. But they were soon beaten off by the horse, and compelled to take refuge among the hills,
where the ground was too rough for the rider to follow. Indeed, the Spaniards did not care to do so, their object being
rather to fly than to fight.

In this way they slowly advanced, halting at intervals to drive off their assailants when they became too
importunate, and greatly distressed by their missiles and their desultory attacks. At night, the troops usually found
shelter in some town or hamlet, whence the inhabitants, in anticipation of their approach, had been careful to carry
off all the provisions. The Spaniards were soon reduced to the greatest straits for subsistence. Their principal food
was the wild cherry, which grew in the woods or by the roadside. Fortunate were they if they found a few ears of corn
unplucked. More frequently nothing was left but the stalks; and with them, and the like unwholesome fare, they were
fain to supply the cravings of appetite. When a horse happened to be killed, it furnished an extraordinary banquet; and
Cortes himself records the fact of his having made one of a party who thus sumptuously regaled themselves, devouring
the animal even to his hide.

The wretched soldiers, faint with famine and fatigue, were sometimes seen to drop down lifeless on the road. Others
loitered behind unable to keep up with the march, and fell into the hands of the enemy, who followed in the track of
the army like a flock of famished vultures, eager to pounce on the dying and the dead. Others, again, who strayed too
far, in their eagerness to procure sustenance, shared the same fate. The number of these, at length, and the
consciousness of the cruel lot for which they were reserved, compelled Cortes to introduce stricter discipline, and to
enforce it by sterner punishments than he had hitherto done — though too often ineffectually, such was the indifference
to danger, under the overwhelming pressure of present calamity.

Through these weary days Cortes displayed his usual serenity and fortitude. He was ever in the post of danger,
freely exposing himself in encounters with the enemy; in one of which he received a severe wound in the head, that
afterwards gave him much trouble. He fared no better than the humblest soldier, and strove, by his own cheerful
countenance and counsels, to fortify the courage of those who faltered, assuring them that their sufferings would soon
be ended by their arrival in the hospitable “land of bread.” His faithful officers co-operated with him in these
efforts; and the common file, indeed, especially his own veterans, must be allowed, for the most part, to have shown a
full measure of the constancy and power of endurance so characteristic of their nation — justifying the honest boast of
an old chronicler, “that there was no people so capable of supporting hunger as the Spaniards, and none of them who
were ever more severely tried than the soldiers of Cortes.” A similar fortitude was shown by the Tlascalans, trained in
a rough school that made them familiar with hardships and privations. Although they sometimes threw themselves on the
ground, in the extremity of famine, imploring their gods not to abandon them, they did their duty as warriors; and, far
from manifesting coldness towards the Spaniards as the cause of their distresses, seemed only the more firmly knit to
them by the sense of a common suffering.

On the seventh morning, the army had reached the mountain rampart which overlooks the plains of Otompan, or Otumba,
as commonly called, from the Indian city — now a village — situated in them. The distance from the capital is hardly
nine leagues. But the Spaniards had travelled more than thrice that distance, in their circuitous march round the
lakes. This had been performed so slowly, that it consumed a week; two nights of which had been passed in the same
quarters, from the absolute necessity of rest. It was not, therefore, till the 7th of July that they reached the
heights commanding the plains which stretched far away towards the territory of Tlascala, in full view of the venerable
pyramids of Teotihuacan, two of the most remarkable monuments of the antique American civilisation now existing north
of the Isthmus. During all the preceding day, they had seen parties of the enemy hovering like dark clouds above the
highlands, brandishing their weapons, and calling out in vindictive tones, “Hasten on! You will soon find yourselves
where you cannot escape!” words of mysterious import, which they were made fully to comprehend on the following
morning.

As the army was climbing the mountain steeps which shut in the Valley of Otompan, the videttes came in with the
intelligence, that a powerful body was encamped on the other side, apparently awaiting their approach. The intelligence
was soon confirmed by their own eyes, as they turned the crest of the sierra, and saw spread out, below, a mighty host,
filling up the whole depth of the valley, and giving to it the appearance, from the white cotton mail of the warriors,
of being covered with snow. It consisted of levies from the surrounding country, and especially the populous territory
of Tezcuco, drawn together at the instance of Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s successor, and now concentrated on this point to
dispute the passage of the Spaniards. Every chief of note had taken the field with his whole array gathered under his
standard, proudly displaying all the pomp and rude splendour of his military equipment. As far as the eye could reach,
were to be seen shields and waving banners, fantastic helmets, forests of shining spears, the bright feather-mail of
the chief, and the coarse cotton panoply of his follower, all mingled together in wild confusion, and tossing to and
fro like the billows of a troubled ocean. It was a sight to fill the stoutest heart among the Christians with dismay,
heightened by the previous expectation of soon reaching the friendly land which was to terminate their wearisome
pilgrimage. Even Cortes, as he contrasted the tremendous array before him with his own diminished squadrons, wasted by
disease and enfeebled by hunger and fatigue, could not escape the conviction that his last hour had arrived.

But his was not the heart to despond; and he gathered strength from the very extremity of his situation. He had no
room for hesitation; for there was no alternative left to him. To escape was impossible. He could not retreat on the
capital, from which he had been expelled. He must advance — cut through the enemy, or perish. He hastily made his
dispositions for the fight. He gave his force as broad a front as possible, protecting it on each flank by his little
body of horse, now reduced to twenty. Fortunately, he had not allowed the invalids, for the last two days, to mount,
behind the riders, from a desire to spare the horses, so that these were now in tolerable condition; and, indeed, the
whole army had been refreshed by halting, as we have seen, two nights and a day in the same place, a delay, however,
which had allowed the enemy time to assemble in such force to dispute its progress.

Cortes instructed his cavaliers not to part with their lances, and to direct them at the face. The infantry were to
thrust, not strike, with their swords; passing them, at once, through the bodies of their enemies. They were, above
all, to aim at the leaders, as the general well knew how much depends on the life of the commander in the wars of
barbarians, whose want of subordination makes them impatient of any control but that to which they are accustomed.

He then addressed to his troops a few words of encouragement, as customary with him on the eve of an engagement. He
reminded them of the victories they had won with odds nearly as discouraging as the present; thus establishing the
superiority of science and discipline over numbers. Numbers, indeed, were of no account, where the arm of the Almighty
was on their side. And he bade them have full confidence, that He, who had carried them safely through so many perils,
would not now abandon them and his own good cause, to perish by the hand of the infidel. His address was brief, for he
read in their looks that settled resolve which rendered words unnecessary. The circumstances of their position spoke
more forcibly to the heart of every soldier than any eloquence could have done, filling it with that feeling of
desperation, which makes the weak arm strong, and turns the coward into a hero. After they had earnestly commended
themselves, therefore, to the protection of God, the Virgin, and St. James, Cortes led his battalions straight against
the enemy.

It was a solemn moment — that in which the devoted little band, with steadfast countenances, and their usual
intrepid step, descended on the plain to be swallowed up, as it were, in the vast ocean of their enemies. The latter
rushed on with impetuosity to meet them, making the mountains ring to their discordant yells and battle-cries, and
sending forth volleys of stones and arrows which for a moment shut out the light of day. But, when the leading files of
the two armies closed, the superiority of the Christians was felt, as their antagonists, falling back before the
charges of cavalry, were thrown into confusion by their own numbers who pressed on them from behind. The Spanish
infantry followed up the blow, and a wide lane was opened in the ranks of the enemy, who, receding on all sides, seemed
willing to allow a free passage for their opponents. But it was to return on them with accumulated force, as, rallying,
they poured upon the Christians, enveloping the little army on all sides, which with its bristling array of long swords
and javelins, stood firm — in the words of a contemporary — like an islet against which the breakers, roaring and
surging, spend their fury in vain. The struggle was desperate of man against man. The Tlascalan seemed to renew his
strength, as he fought almost in view of his own native hills; as did the Spaniard, with the horrible doom of the
captive before his eyes. Well did the cavaliers do their duty on that day; charging, in little bodies of four or five
abreast, deep into the enemy’s ranks, riding over the broken files, and by this temporary advantage giving strength and
courage to the infantry. Not a lance was there which did not reek with the blood of the infidel. Among the rest, the
young captain Sandoval is particularly commemorated for his daring prowess. Managing his fiery steed with easy
horsemanship, he darted, when least expected, into the thickest of the melee, overturning the staunchest warriors, and
rejoicing in danger, as if it were his natural element.

But these gallant displays of heroism served only to ingulf the Spaniards deeper and deeper in the mass of the
enemy, with scarcely any more chance of cutting their way through his dense and interminable battalions, than of hewing
a passage with their swords through the mountains. Many of the Tlascalans and some of the Spaniards had fallen, and not
one but had been wounded. Cortes himself had received a second cut on the head, and his horse was so much injured that
he was compelled to dismount, and take one from the baggage train, a strong-boned animal, who carried him well through
the turmoil of the day. The contest had now lasted several hours. The sun rode high in the heavens, and shed an
intolerable fervour over the plain. The Christians, weakened by previous sufferings, and faint with loss of blood,
began to relax in their desperate exertions. Their enemies, constantly supported by fresh relays from the rear, were
still in good heart, and, quick to perceive their advantage, pressed with redoubled force on the Spaniards. The horse
fell back, crowded on the foot; and the latter, in vain seeking a passage amidst the dusky throngs of the enemy, who
now closed up the rear, were thrown into some disorder. The tide of battle was setting rapidly against the Christians.
The fate of the day would soon be decided; and all that now remained for them seemed to be to sell their lives as
dearly as possible.

At this critical moment, Cortes, whose restless eye had been roving round the field in quest of any object that
might offer him the means of arresting the coming ruin, rising in his stirrups, descried at a distance, in the midst of
the throng, the chief who, from his dress and military cortege, he knew must be the commander of the barbarian forces.
He was covered with a rich surcoat of feather-work; and a panache of beautiful plumes, gorgeously set in gold and
precious stones, floated above his head. Rising above this, and attached to his back, between the shoulders, was a
short staff bearing a golden net for a banner — the singular, but customary, symbol of authority for an Aztec
commander. The cacique, whose name was Cihuaca, was borne on a litter, and a body of young warriors, whose gay and
ornamented dresses showed them to be the flower of the Indian nobles, stood round as a guard of his person and the
sacred emblem.

The eagle eye of Cortes no sooner fell on this personage, than it lighted up with triumph. Turning quickly round to
the cavaliers at his side, among whom were Sandoval, Olid, Alvarado, and Avila, he pointed out the chief, exclaiming,
“There is our mark! Follow and support me!” Then crying his war-cry, and striking his iron heel into his weary steed,
he plunged headlong into the thickest of the press. His enemies fell back, taken by surprise and daunted by the
ferocity of the attack. Those who did not were pierced through with his lance, or borne down by the weight of his
charger. The cavaliers followed close in the rear. On they swept, with the fury of a thunderbolt, cleaving the solid
ranks asunder, strewing their path with the dying and the dead, and bounding over every obstacle in their way. In a few
minutes they were in the presence of the Indian commander, and Cortes, overturning his supporters, sprung forward with
the strength of a lion, and, striking him through with his lance, hurled him to the ground. A young cavalier, Juan de
Salamanca, who had kept close by his general’s side, quickly dismounted and despatched the fallen chief. Then tearing
away his banner, he presented it to Cortes, as a trophy to which he had the best claim. It was all the work of a
moment. The guard, overpowered by the suddenness of the onset, made little resistance, but, flying, communicated their
own panic to their comrades. The tidings of the loss soon spread over the field. The Indians, filled with
consternation, now thought only of escape. In their blind terror, their numbers augmented their confusion. They
trampled on one another, fancying it was the enemy in their rear.

The Spaniards and Tlascalans were not slow to avail themselves of the marvellous change in their affairs. Their
fatigue, their wounds, hunger, thirst, all were forgotten in the eagerness for vengeance; and they followed up the
flying foe, dealing death at every stroke, and taking ample retribution for all they had suffered in the bloody marshes
of Mexico. Long did they pursue, till, the enemy having abandoned the field, they returned sated with slaughter to
glean the booty which he had left. It was great, for the ground was covered with the bodies of chiefs, at whom the
Spaniards, in obedience to the general’s instructions, had particularly aimed; and their dresses displayed all the
barbaric pomp of ornament, in which the Indian warrior delighted. When his men had thus indemnified themselves, in some
degree, for their late reverses, Cortes called them again under their banners; and, after offering up a grateful
acknowledgment to the Lord of Hosts for their miraculous preservation, they renewed their march across the now deserted
valley. The sun was declining in the heavens, but before the shades of evening had gathered around, they reached an
Indian temple on an eminence, which afforded a strong and commodious position for the night.

Such was the famous battle of Otompan, or Otumba, as commonly called, from the Spanish corruption of the name. It
was fought on the 8th of July, 1520. The whole amount of the Indian force is reckoned by Castilian writers at two
hundred thousand! that of the slain at twenty thousand! Those who admit the first part of the estimate will find no
difficulty in receiving the last. Yet it was, undoubtedly, one of the most remarkable victories ever achieved in the
New World.

Chapter V 1520

ARRIVAL IN TLASCALA— FRIENDLY RECEPTION— DISCONTENTS OF THE ARMY— JEALOUSY OF THE TLASCALANS— EMBASSY
FROM MEXICO

ON the following morning the army broke up its encampment at an early hour. The enemy do not seem to have made an
attempt to rally. Clouds of skirmishers, however, were seen during the morning, keeping at a respectful distance,
though occasionally venturing near enough to salute the Spaniards with a volley of missiles.

On a rising ground they discovered a fountain, a blessing not too often met with in these arid regions, and
gratefully commemorated by the Christians, for the refreshment afforded by its cool and abundant waters. A little
further on, they descried the rude works which served as the bulwark and boundary of the Tlascalan territory. At the
sight, the allies sent up a joyous shout of congratulation, in which the Spaniards heartily joined, as they felt they
were soon to be on friendly and hospitable ground.

But these feelings were speedily followed by others of a different nature; and, as they drew nearer the territory,
their minds were disturbed with the most painful apprehensions, as to their reception by the people among whom they
were bringing desolation and mourning, and who might so easily, if ill-disposed take advantage of their present
crippled condition. “Thoughts like these,” says Cortes, “weighed as heavily on my spirit as any which I ever
experienced in going to battle with the Aztecs.” Still he put, as usual, a good face on the matter, and encouraged his
men to confide in their allies, whose past conduct had afforded every ground for trusting to their fidelity in future.
He cautioned them, however, as their own strength was so much impaired, to be most careful to give no umbrage, or
ground for jealousy, to their high-spirited allies. “Be but on your guard,” continued the intrepid general, “and we
have still stout hearts and strong hands to carry us through the midst of them!” With these anxious surmises, bidding
adieu to the Aztec domain, the Christian army crossed the frontier, and once more trod the soil of the republic.

The first place at which they halted was the town of Huejotlipan, a place of about twelve or fifteen thousand
inhabitants. They were kindly greeted by the people, who came out to receive them, inviting the troops to their
habitations, and administering all the relief of their simple hospitality; yet not so disinterested as to prevent their
expecting a share of the plunder. Here the weary forces remained two or three days, when the news of their arrival
having reached the capital, not more than four or five leagues distant, the old chief, Maxixca, their efficient friend
on their former visit, and Xicontencatl, the young warrior who, it will be remembered, had commanded the troops of his
nation in their bloody encounters with the Spaniards, came with a numerous concourse of the citizens to welcome the
fugitives to Tlascala. Maxixca, cordially embracing the Spanish commander, testified the deepest sympathy for his
misfortunes. That the white men could so long have withstood the confederated power of the Aztecs was proof enough of
their marvellous prowess. “We have made common cause together,” said the lord of Tlascala — “and we have common
injuries to avenge; and, come weal or come woe, be assured we will prove true and loyal friends, and stand by you to
the death.”

This cordial assurance and sympathy, from one who exercised a control over the public counsels beyond any other
ruler, effectually dispelled the doubts that lingered in the mind of Cortes. He readily accepted his invitation to
continue his march at once to the capital, where he would find so much better accommodation for his army, than in a
small town on the frontier. The sick and wounded, placed in hammocks, were borne on the shoulders of the friendly
natives; and, as the troops drew near the city, the inhabitants came flocking out in crowds to meet them, rending the
air with joyous acclamations and wild bursts of their rude Indian minstrelsy. Amidst the general jubilee, however, were
heard sounds of wailing and sad lament, as some unhappy relative or friend, looking earnestly into the diminished files
of their countrymen, sought in vain for some dear and familiar countenance, and, as they turned disappointed away, gave
utterance to their sorrow in tones that touched the heart of every soldier in the army. With these mingled
accompaniments of joy and woe — the motley web of human life — the way-worn columns of Cortes at length re-entered the
republican capital.

The general and his suite were lodged in the rude, but spacious, palace of Maxixca. The rest of the army took up
their quarters in the district over which the Tlascalan lord presided. Here they continued several weeks, until, by the
attentions of the hospitable citizens, and such medical treatment as their humble science could supply, the wounds of
the soldiers were healed, and they recovered from the debility to which they had been reduced by their long and
unparalleled sufferings. Cortes was one of those who suffered severely. He lost the use of two of the fingers of his
left hand. He had received, besides, two injuries on the head; one of which was so much exasperated by his subsequent
fatigues and excitement of mind, that it assumed an alarming appearance. A part of the bone was obliged to be removed.
A fever ensued, and for several days the hero, who had braved danger and death in their most terrible forms, lay
stretched on his bed, as helpless as an infant. His excellent constitution, however, got the better of disease, and he
was, at length, once more enabled to resume his customary activity. — The Spaniards, with politic generosity, requited
the hospitality of their hosts by sharing with them the spoils of their recent victory; and Cortes especially rejoiced
the heart of Maxixca, by presenting him with the military trophy which he had won from the Indian commander.

But while the Spaniards were thus recruiting their health and spirits under the friendly treatment of their allies,
and recovering the confidence and tranquillity of mind which had sunk under their hard reverses, they received tidings,
from time to time, which showed that their late disaster had not been confined to the Mexican capital. On his descent
from Mexico to encounter Narvaez, Cortes had brought with him a quantity of gold, which he left for safe keeping at
Tlascala. To this was added a considerable sum collected by the unfortunate Velasquez de Leon, in his expedition to the
coast, as well as contributions from other sources. From the unquiet state of the capital, the general thought it best,
on his return there, still to leave the treasure under the care of a number of invalid soldiers, who, when in marching
condition, were to rejoin him in Mexico. A party from Vera Cruz, consisting of five horsemen and forty foot, had since
arrived at Tlascala, and, taking charge of the invalids and treasure, undertook to escort them to the capital. He now
learned they had been intercepted on the route, and all cut off, with the entire loss of the treasure. Twelve other
soldiers, marching in the same direction, had been massacred in the neighbouring province of Tepeaca; and accounts
continually arrived of some unfortunate Castilian, who, presuming the respect hitherto shown to his countrymen, and
ignorant of the disasters in the capital, had fallen a victim to the fury of the enemy.

These dismal tidings filled the mind of Cortes with gloomy apprehensions for the fate of the settlement at Villa
Rica — the last of their hopes. He despatched a trusty messenger, at once, to that place; and had the inexpressible
satisfaction to receive a letter in return from the commander of the garrison, acquainting him with the safety of the
colony, and its friendly relations with the neighbouring Totonacs. It was the best guarantee of the fidelity of the
latter, that they had offended the Mexicans too deeply to be forgiven.

While the affairs of Cortes wore so gloomy an aspect without, he had to experience an annoyance scarcely less
serious from the discontents of his followers. Many of them had fancied that their late appalling reverses would put an
end to the expedition; or, at least, postpone all thoughts of resuming it for the present. But they knew little of
Cortes who reasoned thus. Even while tossing on his bed of sickness, he was ripening in his mind fresh schemes for
retrieving his honour, and for recovering the empire which had been lost more by another’s rashness than his own. This
was apparent, as he became convalescent, from the new regulations he made respecting the army, as well as from the
orders sent to Vera Cruz for fresh reinforcements.

The knowledge of all this occasioned much disquietude to the disaffected soldiers. They were, for the most part, the
ancient followers of Narvaez, on whom, as we have seen, the brunt of war had fallen the heaviest. Many of them
possessed property in the islands, and had embarked on this expedition chiefly from the desire of increasing it. But
they had gathered neither gold nor glory in Mexico. Their present service filled them only with disgust; and the few,
comparatively, who had been so fortunate as to survive, languished to return to their rich mines and pleasant farms in
Cuba, bitterly cursing the day when they had left them.

Finding their complaints little heeded by the general, they prepared a written remonstrance, in which they made
their demand more formally. They represented the rashness of persisting in the enterprise in his present impoverished
state, without arms or ammunition, almost without men; and this too, against a powerful enemy, who had been more than a
match for him, with all the strength of his late resources. It was madness to think of it. The attempt would bring them
all to the sacrifice-block. Their only course was to continue their march to Vera Cruz. Every hour of delay might be
fatal. The garrison in that Place might be overwhelmed from want of strength to defend itself; and thus their last hope
would be annihilated. But, once there, they might wait in comparative security for such reinforcements as would join
them from abroad; while, in case of failure, they could the more easily make their escape. They concluded with
insisting on being permitted to return, at once, to the port of Villa Rica. This petition, or rather remonstrance, was
signed by all the disaffected soldiers, and, after being formally attested by the royal notary, was presented to
Cortes.

It was a trying circumstance for him. What touched him most nearly was, to find the name of his friend, the
secretary Duero, to whose good offices he had chiefly owed his command, at the head of the paper. He was not, however,
to be shaken from his purpose for a moment; and while all outward resources seemed to be fading away, and his own
friends faltered or failed him, he was still true to himself. He knew that to retreat to Vera Cruz would be to abandon
the enterprise. Once there, his army would soon find a pretext and a way for breaking up, and returning to the islands.
All his ambitious schemes would be blasted. The great prize, already once in his grasp, would then be lost for ever. He
would be a ruined man.

In his celebrated letter to Charles the Fifth, he says, that, in reflecting on his position, he felt the truth of
the old adage, “that fortune favours the brave. The Spaniards were the followers of the Cross; and, trusting in the
infinite goodness and mercy of God, he could not believe that He would suffer them and His own good cause thus to
perish among the heathen. He was resolved, therefore, not to descend to the coast, but at all hazards to retrace his
steps and beard the enemy again in his capital.”

It was in the same resolute tone that he answered his discontented followers. He urged every argument which could
touch their pride or honour as cavaliers. He appealed to that ancient Castilian valour which had never been known to
falter before an enemy; besought them not to discredit the great deeds which had made their name ring throughout
Europe; not to leave the emprise half achieved, for others more daring and adventurous to finish. How could they with
any honour, he asked, desert their allies whom they had involved in the war, and leave them unprotected to the
vengeance of the Aztecs? To retreat but a single step towards Villa Rica would be to proclaim their own weakness. It
would dishearten their friends, and give confidence to their foes. He implored them to resume the confidence in him
which they had ever shown, and to reflect that, if they had recently met with reverses, he had up to that point
accomplished all, and more than all, that he had promised. It would be easy now to retrieve their losses, if they would
have patience, and abide in this friendly land until the reinforcements, which would be ready to come in at his call,
should enable them to act on the offensive. If, however, there were any so insensible to the motives which touch a
brave man’s heart, as to prefer ease at home to the glory of this great achievement, he would not stand in their way.
Let them go in God’s name. Let them leave their general in his extremity. He should feel stronger in the service of a
few brave spirits, than if surrounded by a host of the false or the faint-hearted.

The disaffected party, as already noticed, was chiefly drawn from the troops of Narvaez. When the general’s own
veterans heard this appeal, their blood warmed with indignation at the thoughts of abandoning him or the cause at such
a crisis. They pledged themselves to stand by him to the last; and the malcontents silenced, if not convinced, by this
generous expression of sentiment from their comrades, consented to postpone their departure for the present, under the
assurance, that no obstacle should be thrown in their way, when a more favourable season should present itself.

Scarcely was this difficulty adjusted, when Cortes was menaced with one more serious, in the jealousy springing up
between his soldiers and their Indian allies. Notwithstanding the demonstrations of regard by Maxixca and his immediate
followers, there were others of the nation who looked with an evil eye on their guests, for the calamities in which
they had involved them; and they tauntingly asked, if, in addition to this, they were now to be burdened by the
presence and maintenance of the strangers? The sallies of discontent were not so secret as altogether to escape the
ears of the Spaniards, in whom they occasioned no little disquietude. They proceeded, for the most part, it is true,
from persons of little consideration, since the four great chiefs of the republic appear to have been steadily secured
to the interests of Cortes. But they derived some importance from the countenance of the warlike Xicotencatl, in whose
bosom still lingered the embers of that implacable hostility which he had displayed so courageously on the field of
battle; and sparkles of this fiery temper occasionally gleamed forth in the intimate intercourse into which he was now
reluctantly brought with his ancient opponents.

Cortes, who saw with alarm the growing feelings of estrangement, which must sap the very foundations on which he was
to rest the lever for future operations, employed every argument which suggested itself to restore the confidence of
his own men. He reminded them of the good services they had uniformly received from the great body of the nation. They
had a sufficient pledge of the future constancy of the Tlascalans in their long cherished hatred of the Aztecs, which
the recent disasters they had suffered from the same quarter could serve only to sharpen. And he urged with much force,
that, if any evil designs had been meditated by them against the Spaniards, the Tlascalans would doubtless have taken
advantage of their late disabled condition, and not waited till they had recovered their strength and means of
resistance.

While Cortes was thus endeavouring, with somewhat doubtful success, to stifle his own apprehensions, as well as
those in the bosoms of his followers, an event occurred which happily brought the affair to an issue, and permanently
settled the relations in which the two parties were to stand to each other. This will make it necessary to notice some
events which had occurred in Mexico since the expulsion of the Spaniards.

On Montezuma’s death, his brother Cuitlahua, lord of Iztapalapan, conformably to the usage regulating the descent of
the Aztec crown, was chosen to succeed him. He was an active prince, of large experience in military affairs, and, by
the strength of his character, was well fitted to sustain the tottering fortunes of the monarchy. He appears, morever,
to have been a man of liberal, and what may be called enlightened taste, to judge from the beautiful gardens which he
had filled with rare exotics, and which so much attracted the admiration of the Spaniards in his city of Iztapalapan.
Unlike his predecessor, he held the white men in detestation; and had probably the satisfaction of celebrating his own
coronation by the sacrifice of many of them. From the moment of his release from the Spanish quarters, were he had been
detained by Cortes, he entered into the patriotic movements of his people. It was he who conducted the assaults both in
the streets of the city, and on the “Melancholy Night”; and it was at his instigation that the powerful force had been
assembled to dispute the passage of the Spaniards in the Vale of Otumba.

Since the evacuation of the capital, he had been busily occupied in repairing the mischief it had received —
restoring the buildings and the bridges, and putting it in the best posture of defence. He had endeavoured to improve
the discipline and arms of his troops. He introduced the long spear among them, and, by attaching the swordblades taken
from the Christians to long poles, contrived a weapon that should be formidable against cavalry. He summoned his
vassals, far and near, to hold themselves in readiness to march to the relief of the capital, if necessary, and, the
better to secure their good will, relieved them from some of the burdens usually laid on them. But he was now to
experience the instability of a government which rested not on love, but on fear. The vassals in the neighbourhood of
the valley remained true to their allegiance; but others held themselves aloof, uncertain what course to adopt; while
others, again, in the more distant provinces, refused obedience altogether, considering this a favourable moment for
throwing off the yoke which had so long galled them.

In this emergency, the government sent a deputation to its ancient enemies, the Tlascalans. It consisted of six
Aztec nobles, bearing a present of cotton cloth, salt, and other articles, rarely seen, of late years, in the republic.
The lords of the state, astonished at this unprecedented act of condescension in their ancient foe, called the council
or senate of the great chiefs together, to give the envoys audience.

Before this body, the Aztecs stated the purpose of their mission. They invited the Tlascalans to bury all past
grievances in oblivion, and to enter into a treaty with them. All the nations of Anahuac should make common cause in
defence of their country against the white men. The Tlascalans would bring down on their own heads the wrath of the
gods, if they longer harboured the strangers who had violated and destroyed their temples. If they counted on the
support and friendship of their guests, let them take warning from the fate of Mexico, which had received them kindly
within its walls and which, in return, they had filled with blood and ashes. They conjured them, by their reverence for
their common religion, not to suffer the white men, disabled as they now were, to escape from their hands, but to
sacrifice them at once to the gods, whose temples they had profaned. In that event, they proffered them their alliance,
and the renewal of that friendly traffic which would restore to the republic the possession of the comforts and
luxuries of which it had been so long deprived.

The proposals of the ambassadors produced different effects on their audience. Xicotencatl was for embracing them at
once. Far better was it, he said, to unite with their kindred, with those who held their own language, their faith and
usages, than to throw themselves into the arms of the fierce strangers, who, however they might talk of religion,
worshipped no god but gold. This opinion was followed by that of the younger warriors, who readily caught the fire of
his enthusiasm. But the elder chiefs, especially his blind old father, one of the four rulers of the state, who seem to
have been all heartily in the interests of the Spaniards, and one of them, Maxixca, their staunch friend, strongly
expressed their aversion to the proposed alliance with the Aztecs. They were always the same, said the latter — fair in
speech, and false in heart. They now proffered friendship to the Tlascalans. But it was fear which drove them to it,
and, when that fear was removed, they would return to their old hostility. Who was it, but these insidious foes, that
had so long deprived the country of the very necessaries of life, of which they were now so lavish in their offers? Was
it not owing to the white men that the nation at length possessed them? Yet they were called on to sacrifice the white
men to the gods! — the warriors who, after fighting the battles of the Tlascalans, now threw themselves on their
hospitality. But the gods abhorred perfidy. And were not their guests the very beings whose coming had been so long
predicted by the oracles? Let us avail ourselves of it, he concluded, and unite and make common cause with them, until
we have humbled our haughty enemy.

This discourse provoked a sharp rejoinder from Xicotencatl, tin the passion of the elder chieftain got the better of
his patience, and, substituting force for argument, he thrust his younger antagonist with some violence from the
council chamber. A proceeding so contrary to the usual decorum of Indian debate astonished the assembly. But, far from
bringing censure on its author, it effectually silenced opposition. Even the hot-headed followers of Xicotencatl shrunk
from supporting a leader who had incurred such a mark of contemptuous displeasure from the ruler whom they most
venerated. His own father openly condemned him; and the patriotic young warrior, gifted with a truer foresight into
futurity than his countrymen, was left without support in the council, as he had formerly been on the field of battle.
— The proffered alliance of the Mexicans was unanimously rejected; and the envoys, fearing that even the sacred
character with which they were invested might not protect them from violence, made their escape secretly from the
capital.

The result of the conference was of the last importance to the Spaniards, who, in their present crippled condition,
especially if taken unawares, would have been, probably, at the mercy of the Tlascalans. At all events, the union of
these latter with the Aztecs would have settled the fate of the expedition; since, in the poverty of his own resources,
it was only by adroitly playing off one part of the Indian population against the other, that Cortes could ultimately
hope for success.

Chapter VI 1520

WAR WITH THE SURROUNDING TRIBES— SUCCESSES OF THE SPANIARDS— DEATH OF MAXIXCA— ARRIVAL OF
REINFORCEMENTS— RETURN IN TRIUMPH TO TLASCALA

THE Spanish commander, reassured by the result of the deliberations in the Tlascalan senate, now resolved on active
operations, as the best means of dissipating the spirit of faction and discontent inevitably fostered by a life of
idleness. He proposed to exercise his troops, at first, against some of the neighbouring tribes who had laid violent
hands on such of the Spaniards as, confiding in their friendly spirit, had passed through their territories. Among
these were the Tepeacans, a people often engaged in hostility with the Tlascalans, and who, as mentioned in a preceding
chapter, had lately massacred twelve Spaniards in their march to the capital. An expedition against them would receive
the ready support of his allies, and would assert the dignity of the Spanish name, much dimmed in the estimation of the
natives by the late disasters.

The Tepeacans were a powerful tribe of the same primitive stock as the Aztecs, to whom they acknowledged allegiance.
They had transferred this to the Spaniards, on their first march into the country, intimidated by the bloody defeats of
their Tlascalan neighbours. But, since the troubles in the capital, they had again submitted to the Aztec sceptre.
Their capital, now a petty village, was a flourishing city at the time of the Conquest, situated in the fruitful plains
that stretch far away towards the base of Orizaba. The province contained, moreover, several towns of considerable
size, filled with a bold and warlike population.

As these Indians had once acknowledged the authority of Castile, Cortes and his officers regarded their present
conduct in the light of rebellion, and, in a council of war, it was decided that those engaged in the late massacre had
fairly incurred the doom of slavery. Before proceeding against them, however, the general sent a summons requiring
their submission, and offering full pardon for the past, but, in case of refusal, menacing them with the severest
retribution. To this the Indians, now in arms, returned a contemptuous answer, challenging the Spaniards to meet them
in fight, as they were in want of victims for their sacrifices.

Cortes, without further delay, put himself at the head of his small corps of Spaniards, and a large reinforcement of
Tlascalan warriors. They were led by the young Xicotencatl, who now appeared willing to bury his recent animosity, and
desirous to take a lesson in war under the chief who had so often foiled him in the field.

The Tepeacans received their enemy on their borders. A bloody battle followed, in which the Spanish horse were
somewhat embarrassed by the tall maize that covered part of the plain. They were successful in the end, and the
Tepeacans, after holding their ground like good warriors, were at length routed with great slaughter. A second
engagement, which took place a few days after, was followed by like decisive results; and the victorious Spaniards with
their allies, marching straightway on the city of Tepeaca, entered it in triumph. No further resistance was attempted
by the enemy, and the whole province, to avoid further calamities, eagerly tendered its submission. Cortes, however,
inflicted the meditated chastisement on the places implicated in the massacre. The inhabitants were branded with a hot
iron as slaves, and, after the royal fifth had been reserved, were distributed between his own men and the allies. The
Spaniards were familiar with the system of repartimientos established in the islands; but this was the first example of
slavery in New Spain. It was justified, in the opinion of the general and his military casuists, by the aggravated
offences of the party. The sentence, however, was not countenanced by the crown, which, as the colonial legislation
abundantly shows, was ever at issue with the craving and mercenary spirit of the colonist.

Satisfied with this display of his vengeance, Cortes now established his head-quarters at Tepeaca, which, situated
in a cultivated country, afforded easy means for maintaining an army, while its position on the Mexican frontier made
it a good point d’appui for future operations.

The Aztec government, since it had learned the issue of its negotiations at Tlascala, had been diligent in
fortifying its frontier in that quarter. The garrisons usually maintained there were strengthened, and large bodies of
men were marched in the same direction, with orders to occupy the strong positions on the borders. The conduct of these
troops was in their usual style of arrogance and extortion, and greatly disgusted the inhabitants of the country.

Among the places thus garrisoned by the Aztecs was Quauhquechollan a city containing thirty thousand inhabitants,
according to the historians, and lying to the south-west twelve leagues or more from the Spanish quarters. It stood at
the extremity of a deep valley, resting against a bold range of hills, or rather mountains, and flanked by two rivers
with exceedingly high and precipitous banks. The only avenue by which the town could be easily approached, was
protected by a stone wall more than twenty feet high, and of great thickness. Into this place, thus strongly defended
by art as well as by nature, the Aztec emperor had thrown a garrison of several thousand warriors, while a much more
formidable force occupied the heights commanding the city.

The cacique of this strong post, impatient of the Mexican yoke, sent to Cortes, inviting him to march to his relief,
and promising a co-operation of the citizens in an assault on the Aztec quarters. The general eagerly embraced the
proposal, and arranged with the cacique that, on the appearance of the Spaniards, the inhabitants should rise on the
garrison. Everything succeeded as he had planned. No sooner had the Christian battalions defiled on the plain before
the town, than the inhabitants attacked the garrison with the utmost fury. The latter, abandoning the outer defences of
the place, retreated to their own quarters in the principal teocalli, where they maintained a hard struggle with their
adversaries. In the heat of it, Cortes, at the head of his little body of horse, rode into the place, and directed the
assault in person. The Aztecs made a fierce defence. But fresh troops constantly arriving to support the assailants,
the works were stormed, and every one of the garrison was put to the sword.

The Mexican forces, meanwhile, stationed on the neighbouring eminences, had marched down to the support of their
countrymen in the town, and formed in order of battle in the suburbs, where they were encountered by the Tlascalan
levies. “They mustered,” says Cortes, speaking of the enemy, “at least thirty thousand men, and it was a brave sight
for the eye to look on — such a beautiful array of warriors glistening with gold and jewels and variegated
feather-work!” The action was well contested between the two Indian armies. The suburbs were set on fire, and, in the
midst of the flames, Cortes and his squadrons, rushing on the enemy, at length broke their array, and compelled them to
fall back in disorder into the narrow gorge of the mountain, from which they had lately descended. The pass was rough
and precipitous. Spaniards and Tlascalans followed close in the rear, and the light troops, scaling the high wall of
the valley, poured down on the enemy’s flanks. The heat was intense, and both parties were so much exhausted by their
efforts, that it was with difficulty, says the chronicler, that the one could pursue, or the other fly. They were not
too weary, however, to slay. The Mexicans were routed with terrible slaughter. They found no pity from their Indian
foes, who had a long account of injuries to settle with them. Some few sought refuge by flying higher up into the
fastnesses of the sierra. They were followed by their indefatigable enemy, until, on the bald summit of the ridge, they
reached the Mexican encampment. It covered a wide tract of ground. Various utensils, ornamented dresses, and articles
of luxury, were scattered round, and the number of slaves in attendance showed the barbaric pomp with which the nobles
of Mexico went to their campaigns. It was a rich booty for the victors, who spread over the deserted camp, and loaded
themselves with the spoil, until the gathering darkness warned them to descend.

Cortes followed up the blow by assaulting the strong town of Itzocan, held also by a Mexican garrison, and situated
in the depths of a green valley watered by artificial canals, and smiling in all the rich abundance of this fruitful
region of the plateau. The place, though stoutly defended, was stormed and carried; the Aztecs were driven across a
river which ran below the town, and, although the light bridges that traversed it were broken down in the flight,
whether by design or accident, the Spaniards, fording and swimming the stream as they could, found their way to the
opposite bank, following up the chase with the eagerness of bloodhounds. Here, too, the booty was great; and the Indian
auxiliaries flocked by thousands to the banners of the chief who so surely led them on to victory and plunder.

Soon afterwards, Cortes returned to his head-quarters at Tepeaca. Thence he detached his officers on expeditions
which were usually successful. Sandoval, in particular, marched against a large body of the enemy lying between the
camp and Vera Cruz; defeated them in two decisive battles, and thus restored the communications with the port.

The result of these operations was the reduction of that populous and cultivated territory which lies between the
great volcan, on the west, and the mighty skirts of Orizaba, on the east. Many places, also, in the neighbouring
province of Mixtecapan, acknowledged the authority of the Spaniards, and others from the remote region of Oaxaca sent
to claim their protection. The conduct of Cortes towards his allies had gained him great credit for disinterestedness
and equity. The Indian cities in the adjacent territory appealed to him, as their umpire, in their differences with one
another, and cases of disputed succession in their governments were referred to his arbitration. By his discreet and
moderate policy, he insensibly acquired an ascendency over their counsels, which had been denied to the ferocious
Aztec. His authority extended wider and wider every day; and a new empire grew up in the very heart of the land,
forming a counterpoise to the colossal power which had so long overshadowed it.

Cortes now felt himself strong enough to put in execution the plans for recovering the capital, over which he had
been brooding ever since the hour of his expulsion. He had greatly undervalued the resources of the Aztec monarchy. He
was now aware, from bitter experience, that, to vanquish it, his own forces, and all he could hope to muster, would be
incompetent, without a very extensive support from the Indians themselves. A large army, would, moreover, require large
supplies for its maintenance, and these could not be regularly obtained, during a protracted siege, without the
friendly co-operation of the natives. On such support he might now safely calculate from Tlascala, and the other Indian
territories, whose warriors were so eager to serve under his banners. His past acquaintance with them had instructed
him in their national character and system of war; while the natives who had fought under his command, if they had
caught little of the Spanish tactics, had learned to act in concert with the white men, and to obey him implicitly as
their commander. This was a considerable improvement in such wild and disorderly levies, and greatly augmented the
strength derived from numbers.

Experience showed, that in a future conflict with the capital it would not do to trust to the causeways, but that to
succeed, he must command the lake. He proposed, therefore, to build a number of vessels, like those constructed under
his orders in Montezuma’s time, and afterwards destroyed by the inhabitants. For this he had still the services of the
same experienced ship-builder, Martin Lopez, who, as we have seen, had fortunately escaped the slaughter of the
“Melancholy Night.” Cortes now sent this man to Tlascala, with orders to build thirteen brigantines, which might be
taken to pieces and carried on the shoulders of the Indians to be launched on the waters of Lake Tezcuco. The sails,
rigging, and iron-work, were to be brought from Vera Cruz, where they had been stored since their removal from the
dismantled ships. It was a bold conception, that of constructing a fleet to be transported across forest and mountain
before it was launched on its destined waters! But it suited the daring genius of Cortes, who, with the co-operation of
his staunch Tlascalan confederates, did not doubt his ability to carry it into execution.

It was with no little regret, that the general learned at this time the death of his good friend Maxixca, the old
lord of Tlascala, who had stood by him so steadily in the hour of adversity. He had fallen a victim to that terrible
epidemic, the small-pox, which was now sweeping over the land like fire over the prairies, smiting down prince and
peasant, and adding another to the long train of woes that followed the march of the white men. It was imported into
the country, it is said, by a Negro slave, in the fleet of Narvaez. It first broke out in Cempoalla. The poor natives,
ignorant of the best mode of treating the loathsome disorder, sought relief in their usual practice of bathing in cold
water, which greatly aggravated their trouble. From Cempoalla it spread rapidly over the neighbouring country, and,
penetrating through Tlascala, reached the Aztec capital, where Montezuma’s successor, Cuitlahua, fell one of its first
victims. Thence it swept down towards the borders of the Pacific, leaving its path strewn with the dead bodies of the
natives, who, in the strong language of a contemporary, perished in heaps like cattle stricken with the murrain. It
does not seem to have been fatal to the Spaniards, many of whom, probably, had already had the disorder.

The death of Maxixca was deeply regretted by the troops, who lost in him a true and most efficient ally. With his
last breath, he commended them to his son and successor, as the great beings whose coming into the country had been so
long predicted by the oracles. He expressed a desire to die in the profession of the Christian faith. Cortes no sooner
learned his condition than he despatched Father Olmedo to Tlascala. The friar found that Maxixca had already caused a
crucifix to be placed before his sick couch, as the object of his adoration. After explaining, as intelligibly as he
could, the truths of revelation, he baptised the dying chieftain; and the Spaniards had the satisfaction to believe
that the soul of their benefactor was exempted from the doom of eternal perdition that hung over the unfortunate Indian
who perished in his unbelief.

Their late brilliant successes seem to have reconciled most of the disaffected soldiers to the prosecution of the
war. There were still a few among them, the secretary Duero, Bermudez the treasurer, and others high in office, or
wealthy hidalgos, who looked with disgust on another campaign, and now loudly reiterated their demand of a free passage
to Cuba. To this Cortes, satisfied with the support on which he could safely count, made no further objection. Having
once given his consent, he did all in his power to facilitate their departure, and provide for their comfort. He
ordered the best ship at Vera Cruz to be placed at their disposal, to be well supplied with provisions and everything
necessary for the voyage, and sent Alvarado to the coast to superintend the embarkation. He took the most courteous
leave of them, with assurances of his own unalterable regard. But, as the event proved, those who could part from him
at this crisis had little sympathy with his fortunes; and we find Duero not long afterwards in Spain, supporting the
claims of Velasquez before the emperor, in opposition to those of his former friend and commander.

The loss of these few men was amply compensated by the arrival of others, whom fortune most unexpectedly threw in
his way. The first of these came in a small vessel sent from Cuba by the governor, Velasquez, with stores for the
colony at Vera Cruz. He was not aware of the late transactions in the country, and of the discomfiture of his officer.
In the vessel came despatches, it is said, from Fonseca, Bishop of Burgos, instructing Narvaez to send Cortes, if he
had not already done so, for trial to Spain. The alcalde of Vera Cruz, agreeably to the general’s instructions, allowed
the captain of the bark to land, who had no doubt that the country was in the hands of Narvaez. He was undeceived by
being seized, together with his men, so soon as they had set foot on shore. The vessel was then secured; and the
commander and his crew, finding out their error, were persuaded without much difficulty to join their countrymen in
Tlascala.

A second vessel, sent soon after by Velasquez, shared the same fate, and those on board consented also to take their
chance in the expedition under Cortes.

About the same time, Garay, the governor of Jamaica, fitted out three ships with an armed force to plant a colony on
the Panuco, a river which pours into the Gulf a few degrees north of Villa Rica. Garay persisted in establishing this
settlement, in contempt of the claims of Cortes, who had already entered into a friendly communication with the
inhabitants of that region. But the crews experienced such a rough reception from the natives on landing, and lost so
many men, that they were glad to take to their vessels again. One of these foundered in a storm. The others put into
the port of Vera Cruz to restore the men, much weakened by hunger and disease. Here they were kindly received, their
wants supplied, their wounds healed; when they were induced, by the liberal promises of Cortes, to abandon the
disastrous service of their employer, and enlist under his own prosperous banner. The reinforcements obtained from
these sources amounted to full a hundred and fifty men, well provided with arms and ammunition, together with twenty
horses. By this strange concurrence of circumstances, Cortes saw himself in possession of the supplies he most needed;
that, too, from the hands of his enemies, whose costly preparations were thus turned to the benefit of the very man
whom they were designed to ruin.

His good fortune did not stop here. A ship from the Canaries touched at Cuba, freighted with arms and military
stores for the adventurers in the New World. Their commander heard there of the recent discoveries in Mexico, and,
thinking it would afford a favourable market for him, directed his course to Vera Cruz. He was not mistaken. The
alcalde, by the general’s orders, purchased both ship and cargo; and the crews, catching the spirit of adventure,
followed their countrymen into the interior. There seemed to be a magic in the name of Cortes, which drew all who came
within hearing of it under his standard.

Having now completed the arrangements for settling his new conquests, there seemed to be no further reason for
postponing his departure to Tlascala. He was first solicited by the citizens of Tepeaca to leave a garrison with them,
to protect them from the vengeance of the Aztecs. Cortes acceded to the request, and, considering the central position
of the town favourable for maintaining his conquests, resolved to plant a colony there. For this object he selected
sixty of his soldiers, most of whom were disabled by wounds or infirmity. He appointed the alcaldes, regidores, and
other functionaries of a civic magistracy. The place be called Segura de la Frontera or Security of the Frontier. It
received valuable privileges as a city, a few years later, from the emperor Charles the Fifth; and rose to some
consideration in the age of the Conquest. But its consequence soon after declined. Even its Castilian name, with the
same caprice which has decided the fate of more than one name in our own country, was gradually supplanted by its
ancient one, and the little village of Tepeaca is all that now commemorates the once flourishing Indian capital, and
the second Spanish colony in Mexico.

While at Segura, Cortes wrote that celebrated letter to the emperor — the second in the series — so often cited in
the preceding pages. It takes up the narrative with the departure from Vera Cruz, and exhibits in a brief and
comprehensive form the occurrences up to the time at which we are now arrived. In the concluding page, the general,
after noticing the embarrassments under which he labours, says, in his usual manly spirit, that he holds danger and
fatigue light in comparison with the attainment of his object; and that he is confident a short time will restore the
Spaniards to their former position, and repair all their losses.

He notices the resemblance of Mexico, in many of its features and productions, to the mother country, and requests
that it may henceforth be called, “New Spain of the Ocean Sea.” He finally requests that a commission may be sent out
at once, to investigate his conduct, and to verify the accuracy of his statements.

This letter, which was printed at Seville the year after its reception, has been since reprinted and translated more
than once. It excited a great sensation at the court, and among the friends of science generally. The previous
discoveries of the New World had disappointed the expectations which had been formed after. the solution of the grand
problem of its existence. They had brought to light only rude tribes, which, however gentle and inoffensive in their
manners, were still in the primitive stages of barbarism. Here was an authentic account of a vast nation, potent and
populous, exhibiting an elaborate social polity, well advanced in the arts of civilisation, occupying a soil that
teemed with mineral treasures and with a boundless variety of vegetable products, stores of wealth, both natural and
artificial, that seemed, for the first time, to realise the golden dreams in which the great discoverer of the New
World had so fondly, and in his own day so fallaciously, indulged. Well might the scholar of that age exult in the
revelation of these wonders, which so many had long, but in vain, desired to see.

With this letter went another to the emperor, signed, as it would seem, by nearly every officer and soldier in the
camp. It expatiated on the obstacles thrown in the way of the expedition by Velasquez and Narvaez, and the great
prejudice this had caused to the royal interests. It then set forth the services of Cortes, and besought the emperor to
confirm him in his authority, and not to allow any interference with one who, from his personal character, his intimate
knowledge of the land and its people, and the attachment of his soldiers, was the man best qualified in all the world
to achieve the conquest of the country.

It added not a little to the perplexities of Cortes, that he was still in entire ignorance of the light in which his
conduct was regarded in Spain. He had not even heard whether his despatches, sent the year preceding from Vera Cruz,
had been received. Mexico was as far removed from all intercourse with the civilised world, as if it had been placed at
the antipodes. Few vessels had entered, and none had been allowed to leave its ports. The governor of Cuba, an island
distant but a few days’ sail, was yet ignorant, as we have seen, of the fate of his armament. On the arrival of every
new vessel or fleet on these shores, Cortes might well doubt whether it brought aid to his undertaking, or a royal
commission to supersede him. His sanguine spirit relied on the former; though the latter was much the more probable,
considering the intimacy of his enemy, the governor, with Bishop Fonseca. It was the policy of Cortes, therefore, to
lose no time; to push forward his preparations, lest another should be permitted to snatch the laurel now almost within
his grasp. Could he but reduce the Aztec capital, he felt that he should be safe; and that, in whatever light his
irregular proceedings might now be viewed, his services in that event would far more than counterbalance them in the
eyes both of the crown and of the country.

The general wrote, also, to the Royal Audience at St. Domingo, in order to interest them in his cause. He sent four
vessels to the same island, to obtain a further supply of arms and ammunition; and, the better to stimulate the
cupidity of adventurers, and allure them to the expedition, he added specimens of the beautiful fabrics of the country,
and of its precious metals. The funds for procuring these important supplies were probably derived from the plunder
gathered in the late battles, and the gold which, as already remarked, had been saved from the general wreck by the
Castilian convoy.

It was the middle of December, when Cortes, having completed all his arrangements, set out on his return to
Tlascala, ten or twelve leagues distant. He marched in the van of the army, and took the way of Cholula. How different
was his condition from that in which he had left the republican capital not five months before! His march was a
triumphal procession, displaying the various banners and military ensigns taken from the enemy, long files of captives,
and all the rich spoils of conquest gleaned from many a hard-fought field. As the army passed through the towns and
villages, the inhabitants poured out to greet them, and, as they drew near to Tlascala, the whole population, men,
women, and children, came forth celebrating their return with songs, dancing, and music. Arches decorated with flowers
were thrown across the streets through which they passed, and a Tlascalan orator addressed the general, on his entrance
into the city, in a lofty panegyric on his late achievements, proclaiming him the “avenger of the nation.” Amidst this
pomp and triumphal show, Cortes and his principal officers were seen clad in deep mourning in honour of their friend
Maxixca. And this tribute of respect to the memory of their venerated ruler touched the Tlascalans more sensibly than
all the proud display of military trophies.

The general’s first act was to confirm the son of his deceased friend in the succession, which had been contested by
an illegitimate brother. The youth was but twelve years of age; and Cortes prevailed on him without difficulty to
follow his father’s example, and receive baptism. He afterwards knighted him with his own hand; the first instance,
probably, of the order of chivalry being conferred on an American Indian. The elder Xicotencatl was also persuaded to
embrace Christianity; and the example of their rulers had its obvious effect in preparing the minds of the people for
the reception of the truth. Cortes, whether from the suggestions of Olmedo, or from the engrossing nature of his own
affairs, did not press the work of conversion further at this time, but wisely left the good seed, already sown, to
ripen in secret, till time should bring forth the harvest.

The Spanish commander, during his short stay in Tlascala, urged forward the preparations for the campaign. He
endeavoured to drill the Tlascalans, and give them some idea of European discipline and tactics. He caused new arms to
be made, and the old ones to be put in order. Powder was manufactured with the aid of sulphur obtained by some
adventurous cavaliers from the smoking throat of Popocatepetl. The construction of the brigantines went forward
prosperously under the direction of Lopez, with the aid of the Tlascalans. Timber was cut in the forests, and pitch, an
article unknown to the Indians, was obtained from the pines on the neighbouring Sierra de Malinche. The rigging and
other appurtenances were transported by the Indian tamanes from Villa Rica; and by Christmas, the work was so far
advanced, that it was no longer necessary for Cortes to delay the march to Mexico.

Chapter VII 1520

GUATEMOZIN, NEW EMPEROR OF THE AZTECS— PREPARATIONS FOR THE MARCH— MILITARY CODE— SPANIARDS CROSS THE
SIERRA— ENTER TEZCUCO— PRINCE IXTLILXOCHITL

WHILE the events related in the preceding chapter were passing, an important change had taken place in the Aztec
monarchy. Montezuma’s brother and successor, Cuitlahua, had suddenly died of the small-pox after a brief reign of four
months — brief, but glorious, for it had witnessed the overthrow of the Spaniards and their expulsion from Mexico. On
the death of their warlike chief, the electors were convened, as usual, to supply the vacant throne. It was an office
of great responsibility in the dark hour of their fortunes.

The choice fell on Quauhtemotzin, or Guatemozin, as euphoniously corrupted by the Spaniards. He was nephew to the
two last monarchs, and married his cousin, the beautiful princess Tecuichpo, Montezuma’s daughter. “He was not more
than twenty-five years old, and elegant in his person for an Indian,” says one who had seen him often; “valiant, and so
terrible, that his followers trembled in his presence.” He did not shrink from the perilous post that was offered to
him; and, as he saw the tempest gathering darkly around, he prepared to meet it like a man. Though young, he had ample
experience in military matters, and had distinguished himself above all others in the bloody conflicts of the
capital.

By means of his spies, Guatemozin made himself acquainted with the movements of the Spaniards, and their design to
besiege the capital. He prepared for it by sending away the useless part of the population, while he called in his
potent vassals from the neighbourhood. He continued the plans of his predecessor for strengthening the defences of the
city, reviewed his troops, and stimulated them by prizes to excel in their exercises. He made harangues to his soldiers
to rouse them to a spirit of desperate resistance. He encouraged his vassals throughout the empire to attack the white
men wherever they were to be met with, setting a price on their heads, as well as the persons of all who should be
brought alive to him in Mexico. And it was no uncommon thing for the Spaniards to find hanging up in the temples of the
conquered places the arms and accoutrements of their unfortunate countrymen who had been seized and sent to the capital
for sacrifice. Such was the young monarch who was now called to the tottering throne of the Aztecs; worthy, by his bold
and magnanimous nature, to sway the sceptre of his country, in the most flourishing period of her renown; and now, in
her distress, devoting himself in the true spirit of a patriotic prince to uphold her falling fortunes, or bravely
perish with them.

We must now return to the Spaniards in Tlascala, where we left them preparing to resume their march on Mexico. Their
commander had the satisfaction to see his troops tolerably complete in their appointments; varying, indeed, according
to the condition of the different reinforcements which had arrived from time to time; but on the whole, superior to
those of the army with which he had first invaded the country. His whole force fell little short of six hundred men;
forty of whom were cavalry, together with eighty arquebusiers and crossbowmen. The rest were armed with sword and
target, and with the copper-headed pike of Chinantla. He had nine cannon of a moderate calibre, and was indifferently
supplied with powder.

As his forces were drawn up in order of march, Cortes rode through the ranks, exhorting his soldiers, as usual with
him on these occasions, to be true to themselves, and the enterprise in which they were embarked. He told them, they
were to march against rebels, who had once acknowledged allegiance to the Spanish sovereign; against barbarians, the
enemies of their religion. They were to fight the battles of the Cross and of the crown; to fight their own battles, to
wipe away the stain from their arms, to avenge their injuries, and the loss of the dear companions who had been
butchered on the field or on the accursed altar of their sacrifice. Never was there a war which offered higher
incentives to the Christian cavalier; a war which opened to him riches and renown in this life, and an imperishable
glory in that to come. They answered with acclamations, that they were ready to die in defence of the faith; and would
either conquer, or leave their bones with those of their countrymen, in the waters of the Tezcuco.

The army of the allies next passed in review before the general. It is variously estimated by writers from a hundred
and ten to a hundred and fifty thousand soldiers! The palpable exaggeration, no less than the discrepancy, shows that
little reliance can be placed on any estimate. It is certain, however, that it was a multitudinous array, consisting
not only of the flower of the Tlascalan warriors, but of those of Cholula, Tepeaca, and the neighbouring territories,
which had submitted to the Castilian crown.

Cortes, with the aid of Marina, made a brief address to his Indian allies. He reminded them that he was going to
fight their battles against their ancient enemies. He called on them to support him in a manner worthy of their
renowned republic. To those who remained at home, he committed the charge of aiding in the completion of the
brigantines, on which the success of the expedition so much depended; and he requested that none would follow his
banner, who were not prepared to remain till the final reduction of the capital. This address was answered by shouts,
or rather yells, of defiance, showing the exultation felt by his Indian confederates at the prospect of at last
avenging their manifold wrongs, and humbling their haughty enemy.

Before setting out on the expedition, Cortes published a code of ordinances, as he terms them, or regulations for
the army, too remarkable to be passed over in silence. The preamble sets forth that in all institutions, whether divine
or human — if the latter have any worth — order is the great law. The ancient chronicles inform us, that the greatest
captains in past times owed their successes quite as much to the wisdom of their ordinances, as to their own valour and
virtue. The situation of the Spaniards eminently demanded such a code; a mere handful of men as they were, in the midst
of countless enemies, most cunning in the management of their weapons and in the art of war. The instrument then
reminds the army that the conversion of the heathen is the work most acceptable in the eye of the Almighty, and one
that will be sure to receive his support. It calls on every soldier to regard this as the prime object of the
expedition, without which the war would be manifestly unjust, and every acquisition made by it a robbery.

The general solemnly protests, that the principal motive which operates in his own bosom, is the desire to wean the
natives from their gloomy idolatry, and to impart to them the knowledge of a purer faith; and next, to recover for his
master, the emperor, the dominions which of right belong to him.

The ordinances then prohibit all blasphemy against God or the saints. Another law is directed against gaming, to
which the Spaniards in all ages have been peculiarly addicted. Cortes, making allowance for the strong national
propensity, authorises it under certain limitations; but prohibits the use of dice altogether. Then follow other laws
against brawls and private combats, against Personal taunts and the irritating sarcasms of rival companies; rules for
the more perfect discipline of the troops, whether in camp or the field. Among others is one prohibiting any captain,
under pain of death, from charging the enemy without orders; a practice noticed as most pernicious and of too frequent
occurrence — showing the impetuous spirit and want of true military subordination in the bold cavaliers who followed
the standard of Cortes.

The last ordinance prohibits any man, officer or private, from securing to his own use any of the booty taken from
the enemy, whether it be gold, silver, precious stones, feather-work, stuffs, slaves, or other commodity, however or
wherever obtained, in the city or in the field; and requires him to bring it forthwith to the presence of the general,
or the officer appointed to receive it. The violation of this law was punished with death and confiscation of property.
So severe an edict may be thought to prove that, however much the Conquistador may have been influenced by spiritual
considerations, he was by no means insensible to those of a temporal character.

These provisions were not suffered to remain a dead letter. The Spanish commander, soon after their proclamation,
made an example of two of his own slaves, whom he hanged for plundering the natives. A similar sentence was passed on a
soldier for the like offence, though he allowed him to be cut down before the sentence was entirely executed. Cortes
knew well the character of his followers; rough and turbulent spirits, who required to be ruled with an iron hand. Yet
he was not eager to assert his authority on light occasions. The intimacy into which they were thrown by their peculiar
situation, perils, and sufferings, in which all equally shared, and a common interest in the adventure, induced a
familiarity between men and officers, most unfavourable to military discipline. The general’s own manners, frank and
liberal, seemed to invite this freedom, which on ordinary occasions he made no attempt to repress; perhaps finding it
too difficult, or at least impolitic, since it afforded a safety-valve for the spirits of a licentious soldiery, that,
if violently coerced, might have burst forth into open mutiny. But the limits of his forbearance were clearly defined;
and any attempt to overstep them, or to violate the established regulations of the camp, brought a sure and speedy
punishment on the offender. By thus tempering severity with indulgence, masking an iron will under the open bearing of
a soldier — Cortes established a control over his band of bold and reckless adventurers, such as a pedantic martinet,
scrupulous in enforcing the minutiae of military etiquette, could never have obtained.

The ordinances, dated on the twenty-second of December, were proclaimed to the assembled army on the twenty-sixth.
Two days afterwards, the troops were on their march. Notwithstanding the great force mustered by the Indian
confederates, the Spanish general allowed but a small part of them now to attend him. He proposed to establish his
head-quarters at some place on the Tezcucan lake, whence he could annoy the Aztec capital, by reducing the surrounding
country, cutting off the supplies, and thus placing the city in a state of blockade.

The direct assault on Mexico itself he intended to postpone, until the arrival of the brigantines should enable him
to make it with the greatest advantage. Meanwhile, he had no desire to encumber himself with a superfluous multitude,
whom it would be difficult to feed; and he preferred to leave them at Tlascala, whence they might convey the vessels,
when completed, to the camp, and aid him in his future operations.

Three routes presented themselves to Cortes, by which he might penetrate into the valley. He chose the most
difficult, traversing the bold sierra which divides the eastern plateau from the western, and so rough and precipitous,
as to be scarcely practicable for the march of an army. He wisely judged, that he should be less likely to experience
annoyance from the enemy in this direction, as they might naturally confide in the difficulties of the ground.

The first day the troops advanced five or six leagues, Cortes riding in the van at the head of his little body of
cavalry. They halted at the village of Tetzmellocan, at the base of the mountain chain which traverses the country,
touching at its southern limit the mighty Iztaccihuatl, or “White Woman,”— white with the snows of ages. At this
village they met with a friendly reception, and on the following morning began the ascent of the sierra.

It was night before the way-worn soldiers reached the bald crest of the sierra, where they lost no time in kindling
their fires; and, huddling round their bivouacs, they warmed their frozen limbs, and prepared their evening repast.
With the earliest dawn, the troops were again in motion. Mass was said, and they began their descent, more difficult
and painful than their ascent on the day preceding; for, in addition to the natural obstacles of the road, they found
it strewn with huge pieces of timber and trees, obviously felled for the purpose by the natives. Cortes ordered up a
body of light troops to clear away the impediments, and the army again resumed its march, but with the apprehension
that the enemy had prepared an ambuscade, to surprise them when they should be entangled in the pass. They moved
cautiously forward, straining their vision to pierce the thick gloom of the forests, where the wily foe might be
lurking. But they saw no living thing, except only the wild inhabitants of the woods, and flocks of the zopilote, the
voracious vulture of the country, which, in anticipation of a bloody banquet, hung like a troop of evil spirits on the
march of the army.

At length, the army emerged on an open level, where the eye, unobstructed by intervening wood or hill-top, could
range far and wide over the Valley of Mexico. The magnificent vision, new to many of the spectators, filled them with
rapture. Even the veterans of Cortes could not withhold their admiration, though this was soon followed by a bitter
feeling, as they recalled the sufferings which had befallen them within these beautiful, but treacherous precincts. It
made us feel, says the lion-hearted Conqueror in his letters, that “we had no choice but victory or death; and our
minds once resolved, we moved forward with as light a step as if we had been going on an errand of certain
pleasure.”

As the Spaniards advanced, they beheld the neighbouring hilltops blazing with beacon-fires, showing that the country
was already alarmed and mustering to oppose them. The general called on his men to be mindful of their high reputation;
to move in order, closing up their ranks, and to obey implicitly the commands of their officers. At every turn among
the hills, they expected to meet the forces of the enemy drawn up to dispute their passage. And, as they were allowed
to pass the defiles unmolested, and drew near to the open plains, they were prepared to see them occupied by a
formidable host, who would compel them to fight over again the battle of Otumba. But, although clouds of dusky warriors
were seen, from time to time, hovering on the highlands, as if watching their progress, they experienced no
interruption, till they reached a barranca, or deep ravine, through which flowed a little river, crossed by a bridge
partly demolished. On the opposite side a considerable body of Indians was stationed, as if to dispute the passage, but
whether distrusting their own numbers, or intimidated by the steady advance of the Spaniards, they offered them no
annoyance, and were quickly dispersed by a few resolute charges of cavalry. The army then proceeded, without
molestation, to a small town, called Coatepec, where they halted for the night. Before retiring to his own quarters,
Cortes made the rounds of the camp, with a few trusty followers, to see that all was safe. He seemed to have an eye
that never slumbered, and a frame incapable of fatigue. It was the indomitable spirit within, which sustained him.

Yet he may well have been kept awake through the watches of the night, by anxiety and doubt. He was now but three
leagues from Tezcuco, the far-famed capital of the Acolhuans. He proposed to establish his head-quarters, if possible,
at this place. Its numerous dwellings would afford ample accommodations for his army. An easy communication with
Tlascala, by a different route from that which he had traversed, would furnish him with the means of readily obtaining
supplies from that friendly country, and for the safe transportation of the brigantines, when finished, to be launched
on the waters of the Tezcuco. But he had good reason to distrust the reception he should meet with in the capital; for
an important revolution had taken place there, since the expulsion of the Spaniards from Mexico, of which it will be
necessary to give some account.

The reader will remember that the cacique of that place, named Cacama, was deposed by Cortes, during his first
residence in the Aztec metropolis, in consequence of a projected revolt against the Spaniards, and that the crown had
been placed on the head of a younger brother, Cuicuitzea. The deposed prince was among the prisoners carried away by
Cortes, and perished with the others, in the terrible passage of the causeway, on the noche triste. His brother,
afraid, probably, after the flight of the Spaniards, of continuing with the Aztecs, accompanied his friends in their
retreat, and was so fortunate as to reach Tlascala in safety.

Meanwhile, a second son of Nezahualpilli, named Coanaco, claimed the crown, on his elder brother’s death, as his own
rightful inheritance. As he heartily joined his countrymen and the Aztecs in their detestation of the white men, his
claims were sanctioned by the Mexican emperor. Soon after his accession, the new lord of Tezcuco had an opportunity of
showing his loyalty to his imperial patron in an effectual manner.

A body of forty-five Spaniards, ignorant of the disasters in Mexico, were transporting thither a large quantity of
gold, at the very time their countrymen were on the retreat to Tlascala. As they passed through the Tezcucan territory,
they were attacked by Coanaco’s orders, most of them massacred on the spot, and the rest sent for sacrifice to Mexico.
The arms and accoutrements of these unfortunate men were hung up as trophies in the temples, and their skins, stripped
from their dead bodies, were suspended over the bloody shrines, as the most acceptable offering to the offended
deities.

Some months after this event, the exiled prince, Cuicuitzca, wearied with his residence in Tlascala, and pining for
his former royal state, made his way back secretly to Tezcuco, hoping, it would seem, to raise a party there in his
favour. But if such were his expectations, they were sadly disappointed; for no sooner had he set foot in the capital,
than he was betrayed to his brother, who, by the advice of Guatemozin, put him to death, as a traitor to his country. —
Such was the posture of affairs in Tezcuco, when Cortes, for the second time, approached its gates; and well might he
doubt, not merely the nature of his reception there, but whether he would be permitted to enter it at all, without
force of arms.

These apprehensions were dispelled the following morning, when, before the troops were well under arms, an embassy
was announced from the lord of Tezcuco. It consisted of several nobles, some of whom were known to the companions of
Cortes. They bore a golden flag in token of amity, and a present of no great value to Cortes. They brought also a
message from the cacique, imploring the general to spare his territories, inviting him to take up his quarters in his
capital, and promising on his arrival to become the vassal of the Spanish sovereign.

Cortes dissembled the satisfaction with which he listened to these overtures, and sternly demanded of the envoys an
account of the Spaniards who had been massacred, insisting, at the same time, on the immediate restitution of the
plunder. But the Indian nobles excused themselves, by throwing the whole blame upon the Aztec emperor, by whose orders
the deed had been perpetrated, and who now had possession of the treasure. They urged Cortes not to enter the city that
day, but to pass the night in the suburbs, that their master might have time to prepare suitable accommodations for
him. The Spanish commander, however, gave no heed to this suggestion, but pushed forward his march, and, at noon, on
the 31st of December, 1520, entered, at the head of his legions, the venerable walls of Tezcuco.

He was struck, as when he before visited this populous city, with the solitude and silence which reigned throughout
its streets. He was conducted to the palace of Nezahualpilli, which was assigned as his quarters. It was an irregular
pile of low buildings, covering a wide extent of ground, like the royal residence occupied by the troops in Mexico. It
was spacious enough to furnish accommodations, not only for all the Spaniards, says Cortes, but for twice their number.
He gave orders on his arrival, that all regard should be paid to the persons and property of the citizens; and forbade
any Spaniard to leave his quarters under pain of death.

Alarmed at the apparent desertion of the place, as well as by the fact that none of its principal inhabitants came
to welcome him, Cortes ordered some soldiers to ascend the neighbouring teocalli and survey the city. They soon
returned with the report, that the inhabitants were leaving it in great numbers, with their families and effects, some
in canoes upon the lake, others on foot towards the mountains. The general now comprehended the import of the cacique’s
suggestion, that the Spaniards should pass the night in the suburbs — in order to secure time for evacuating the city.
He feared that the chief himself might have fled. He lost no time in detaching troops to secure the principal avenues,
where they were to turn back the fugitives, and arrest the cacique, if he were among the number. But it was too late.
Coanaco was already far on his way across the lake to Mexico.

Cortes now determined to turn this event to his own account, by placing another ruler on the throne, who should be
more subservient to his interests. He called a meeting of the few principal persons still remaining in the city, and by
their advice and ostensible election advanced a brother of the late sovereign to the dignity, which they declared
vacant. The prince, who consented to be baptised, was a willing instrument in the hands of the Spaniards. He survived
but a few months, and was succeeded by another member of the royal house, named Ixtlilxochitl, who, indeed, as general
of his armies, may be said to have held the reins of government in his hands during his brother’s lifetime. As this
person was intimately associated with the Spaniards in their subsequent operations, to the success of which he
essentially contributed, it is proper to give some account of his earlier history, which, in truth, is as much
enveloped in the marvellous, as that of any fabulous hero of antiquity.

He was son, by a second queen, of the great Nezahualpilli. Some alarming prodigies at his birth, and the gloomy
aspect of the planets, led the astrologers, who cast his horoscope, to advise the king, his father, to take away the
infant’s life, since, if he lived to grow up, he was destined to unite with the enemies of his country, and overturn
its institutions and religion. But the old monarch replied, says the chronicler, that the time had arrived when the
sons of Quetzalcoatl were to come from the East to take possession of the land; and, if the Almighty had selected his
child to co-operate with them in the work, His will be done.

As the boy advanced in years, he exhibited a marvellous precocity not merely of talent, but of mischievous activity,
which afforded an alarming prognostic for the future. When about twelve years old, be formed a little corps of
followers of about his own age, or somewhat older, with whom he practised the military exercises of his nation,
conducting mimic fights and occasionally assaulting the peaceful burghers, and throwing the whole city as well as
palace into uproar and confusion. Some of his father’s ancient counsellors, connecting this conduct with the
predictions at his birth, saw in it such alarming symptoms, that they repeated the advice of the astrologers, to take
away the prince’s life, if the monarch would not see his kingdom one day given up to anarchy. This unpleasant advice
was reported to the juvenile offender, who was so much exasperated by it, that he put himself at the head of a party of
his young desperadoes, and, entering the house of the offending counsellors, dragged them forth, and administered to
them the garrote — the mode in which capital punishment was inflicted in Tezcuco.

He was seized and brought before his father. When questioned as to his extraordinary conduct, he cooly replied,
“that he had done no more than he had a right to do. The guilty ministers had deserved their fate, by endeavouring to
alienate his father’s affections from him, for no other reason than his too great fondness for the profession of arms —
the most honourable profession in the state, and the one most worthy of a prince. If they had suffered death, it was no
more than they had intended for him.” The wise Nezahualpilli, says the chronicler, found much force in these reasons;
and, as he saw nothing low and sordid in the action, but rather the ebulliton of a daring spirit, which in after life
might lead to great things, he contented himself with bestowing a grave admonition on the juvenile culprit. Whether
this admonition had any salutary effect on his subsequent demeanour, we are not informed. It is said, however, that as
he grew older he took an active part in the wars of his country, and when no more than seventeen had won for himself
the insignia of a valiant and victorious captain.

On his father’s death, he disputed the succession with his elder brother, Cacama. The country was menaced with a
civil war, when the affair was compromised by his brother’s ceding to him that portion of his territories which lay
among the mountains. On the arrival of the Spaniards, the young chieftain-for he was scarcely twenty years of age-made,
as we have seen, many friendly demonstrations towards them, induced, no doubt, by his hatred of Montezuma, who had
supported the pretensions of Cacama. It was not, however, till his advancement to the lordship of Tezcuco, that he
showed the full extent of his good will. From that hour, he became the fast friend of the Christians, supporting them
with his personal authority, and the whole strength of his military array and resources, which, although much shorn of
their ancient splendour since the days of his father, were still considerable, and made him a most valuable ally. His
important services have been gratefully commemorated by the Castilian historians; and history should certainly not
defraud him of his just meed of glory — the melancholy glory of having contributed more than any other chieftain of
Anahuac to rivet the chains round the necks of his countrymen.

BOOK VI:

Siege and Surrender of Mexico

Chapter I 1521

ARRANGEMENTS AT TEZCUCO— SACK OF IZTAPALAPAN— ADVANTAGES OF THE SPANIARDS— WISE POLICY OF CORTES—
TRANSPORTATION OF THE BRIGANTINES

THE city of Tezcuco was the best position, probably, which Cortes could have chosen for the head-quarters of the
army. It supplied all the accommodation for lodging a numerous body of troops, and all the facilities for subsistence,
incident to a large and populous town. It furnished, moreover, a multitude of artisans and labourers for the uses of
the army. Its territories, bordering on the Tlascalan, afforded a ready means of intercourse with the country of his
allies, while its vicinity to Mexico enabled the general, without much difficulty, to ascertain the movements in that
capital. Its central situation, in short, opened facilities for communication with all parts of the valley, and made it
an excellent Point d’appui for his future operations.

The first care of Cortes was to strengthen himself in the palace assigned to him, and to place his quarters in a
state of defence, which might secure them against surprise, not only from the Mexicans, but from the Tezcucans
themselves. Since the election of their new ruler, a large part of the population had returned to their homes, assured
of protection in person and property. But the Spanish general, notwithstanding their show of submission, very much
distrusted its sincerity; for he knew that many of them were united too intimately with the Aztecs, by marriage and
other social relations, not to have their sympathies engaged in their behalf. The young monarch, however, seemed wholly
in his interest; and, to secure him more effectually, Cortes placed several Spaniards near his person, whose ostensible
province it was to instruct him in their language and religion, but who were in reality to watch over his conduct, and
prevent his correspondence with those who might be unfriendly to the Spanish interests.

Tezcuco stood about half a league from the lake. It would be necessary to open a communication with it, so that the
brigantines, when put together in the capital, might be launched upon its waters. It was proposed, therefore, to dig a
canal, reaching from the gardens of Nezahualcoyotl, as they were called from the old monarch who planned them, to the
edge of the basin. A little stream or rivulet, which flowed in that direction, was to be deepened sufficiently for the
purpose; and eight thousand Indian labourers were forthwith employed on this great work, under the direction of the
young Ixtlilxochitl.

Meanwhile Cortes received messages from several places in the neighbourhood, intimating their desire to become the
vassals of his sovereign, and to be taken under his protection. The Spanish commander required, in return, that they
should deliver up every Mexican who should set foot in their territories. Some noble Aztecs, who had been sent on a
mission to these towns, were consequently delivered into his hands. He availed himself of it to employ them as bearers
of a message to their master, the emperor. In it he deprecated the necessity of the present hostilities. Those who had
most injured him, he said, were no longer among the living. He was willing to forget the past; and invited the
Mexicans, by a timely submission, to save their capital from the horrors of a siege. Cortes had no expectation of
producing any immediate result by this appeal. But he thought it might lie in the minds of the Mexicans, and that, if
there was a party among them disposed to treat with him, it might afford them encouragement, as showing his own
willingness to co-operate with their views. At this time, however, there was no division of opinion in the capital. The
whole population seemed animated by a spirit of resistance, as one man.

In a former page I have mentioned that it was the plan of Cortes, on entering the valley, to commence operations by
reducing the subordinate cities before striking at the capital itself, which, like some goodly tree, whose roots had
been severed one after another, would be thus left without support against the fury of the tempest. The first point of
attack which he selected was the ancient city of Iztapalapan; a place containing fifty thousand inhabitants, according
to his own account, and situated about six leagues distant, on the narrow tongue of land which divides the waters of
the great salt lake from those of the fresh. It was the private domain of the last sovereign of Mexico; where, as the
reader may remember, he entertained the white men the night before their entrance into the capital, and astonished them
by the display of his princely gardens. To this monarch they owed no good will, for he had conducted the operations on
the noche triste. He was, indeed, no more; but the people of his city entered heartily into his hatred of the
strangers, and were now the most loyal vassals of the Mexican crown.

In a week after his arrival at his new quarters, Cortes, leaving the command of the garrison to Sandoval, marched
against this Indian city, at the head of two hundred Spanish foot, eighteen horse, and between three and four thousand
Tlascalans. Within two leagues of their point of destination, they were encountered by a strong Aztec force, drawn up
to dispute their progress. Cortes instantly gave them battle. The barbarians showed their usual courage; but, after
some hard fighting, were compelled to give way before the steady valour of the Spanish infantry, backed by the
desperate fury of the Tlascalans, whom the sight of an Aztec seemed to inflame almost to madness. The enemy retreated
in disorder, closely followed by the Spaniards. When they had arrived within half a league of Iztapalapan, they
observed a number of canoes filled with Indians, who appeared to be labouring on the mole which hemmed in the waters of
the salt lake. Swept along in the tide of pursuit, they gave little heed to it, but, following up the chase, entered
pell-mell with the fugitives into the city.

The houses stood some of them on dry ground, some on piles in the water. The former were deserted by the
inhabitants, most of whom had escaped in canoes across the lake, leaving, in their haste, their effects behind them.
The Tlascalans poured at once into the vacant dwellings and loaded themselves with booty; while the enemy, making the
best of their way through this part of the town, sought shelter in the buildings erected over the water, or among the
reeds which sprung from its shallow bottom. In the houses were many of the citizens also, who still lingered with their
wives and children, unable to find the means of transporting themselves from the scene of danger.

Cortes, supported by his own men, and by such of the allies as could be brought to obey his orders, attacked the
enemy in this last place of their retreat. Both parties fought up to their girdles in the water. A desperate struggle
ensued, as the Aztec fought with the fury of a tiger driven to bay by the huntsmen. It was all in vain. The enemy was
overpowered in every quarter. The citizen shared the fate of the soldier, and a pitiless massacre succeeded, without
regard to sex or age. Cortes endeavoured to stop it. But it would have been as easy to call away the starving wolf from
the carcass he was devouring, as the Tlascalan who had once tasted the blood of an enemy. More than six thousand,
including women and children, according to the Conqueror’s own statement, perished in the conflict.

Darkness meanwhile had set in; but it was dispelled in some measure by the light of the burning houses, which the
troops had set on fire in different parts of the town. Their insulated position, it is true, prevented the flames from
spreading from one building to another, but the solitary masses threw a strong and lurid glare over their own
neighbourhood, which gave additional horror to the scene. As resistance was now at an end, the soldiers abandoned
themselves to pillage, and soon stripped the dwellings of every portable article of any value.

While engaged in this work of devastation, a murmuring sound was heard as of the hoarse rippling of waters, and a
cry soon arose among the Indians that the dikes were broken! Cortes now comprehended the business of the men whom he
had seen in the canoes at work on the mole which fenced in the great basin of Lake Tezcuco. It had been pierced by the
desperate Indians, who thus laid the country under an inundation, by suffering the waters of the salt lake to spread
themselves over the lower level, through the opening. Greatly alarmed, the general called his men together, and made
all haste to evacuate the city. Had they remained three hours longer, he says, not a soul could have escaped. They came
staggering under the weight of booty, wading with difficulty through the water, which was fast gaining upon them. For
some distance their path was illumined by the glare of the burning buildings. But, as the light faded away in distance,
they wandered with uncertain steps, sometimes up to their knees, at others up to their waists, in the water, through
which they floundered on with the greatest difficulty. As they reached the opening in the dike, the stream became
deeper, and flowed out with such a current that the men were unable to maintain their footing. The Spaniards, breasting
the flood, forced their way through; but many of the Indians, unable to swim, were borne down by the waters. All the
plunder was lost. The powder was spoiled; the arms and clothes of the soldiers were saturated with the brine, and the
cold night wind, as it blew over them, benumbed their weary limbs till they could scarcely drag them along. At dawn
they beheld the lake swarming with canoes, full of Indians, who had anticipated their disaster, and who now saluted
them with showers of stones, arrows, and other deadly missiles. Bodies of light troops, hovering in the distance,
disquieted the flanks of the army in like manner. The Spaniards had no desire to close with the enemy. They only wished
to regain their comfortable quarters in Tezcuco, where they arrived on the same day, more disconsolate and fatigued
than after many a long march and hard-fought battle.

The close of the expedition, so different from its brilliant commencement, greatly disappointed Cortes. His
numerical loss had, indeed, not been great; but this affair convinced him how much he had to apprehend from the
resolution of a people, who were prepared to bury their country under water rather than to submit. Still, the enemy had
little cause for congratulation, since, independently of the number of slain, they had seen one of their most
flourishing cities sacked, and in part, at least, laid in ruins — one of those, too, which in its public works
displayed the nearest approach to civilisation. Such are the triumphs of war!

The expedition of Cortes, notwithstanding the disasters which chequered it, was favourable to the Spanish cause. The
fate of Iztapalapan struck a terror throughout the valley. The consequences were soon apparent in the deputations sent
by the different places eager to offer their submission. Its influence was visible, indeed, beyond the mountains. Among
others, the people of Otumba, the town near which the Spaniards had gained their famous victory, sent to tender their
allegiance, and to request the protection of the powerful strangers. They excused themselves, as usual, for the part
they had taken in the late hostilities, by throwing the blame on the Aztecs.

But the place of most importance which thus claimed their protection, was Chalco, situated on the eastern extremity
of the lake of that name. It was an ancient city, people by a kindred tribe of the Aztecs, and once their formidable
rival. The Mexican emperor, distrusting their loyalty, had placed a garrison within their walls to hold them in check.
The rulers of the city now sent a message secretly to Cortes, proposing to put themselves under his protection, if he
would enable them to expel the garrison.

The Spanish commander did not hesitate; but instantly detached a considerable force under Sandoval for this object.
On the march his rear-guard, composed of Tlascalans, was roughly handled by some light troops of the Mexicans. But he
took his revenge in a pitched battle, which took place with the main body of the enemy at no great distance from
Chalco. They were drawn up on a level ground, covered with green crops of maize and maguey. Sandoval, charging the
enemy at the head of his cavalry, threw them into disorder. But they quickly rallied, formed again, and renewed the
battle with greater spirit than ever. In a second attempt he was more fortunate; and, breaking through their lines by a
desperate onset, the brave cavalier succeeded, after a warm but ineffectual struggle on their part, in completely
routing and driving them from the field. The conquering army continued its march to Chalco, which the Mexican garrison
had already evacuated, and was received in triumph by the assembled citizens, who seemed eager to testify their
gratitude for their deliverance from the Aztec yoke. After taking such measures as he could for the permanent security
of the place, Sandoval returned to Tezcuco, accompanied by the two young lords of the city, sons of the late
cacique.

They were courteously received by Cortes; and they informed him that their father had died full of years, a short
time before. With his last breath he had expressed his regret that he should not have lived to see Malinche. He
believed that the white men were the beings predicted by the oracles, as one day to come from the East and take
possession of the land; and he enjoined it on his children, should the strangers return to the valley, to render them
their homage and allegiance. The young caciques expressed their readiness to do so; but, as this must bring on them the
vengeance of the Aztecs, they implored the general to furnish a sufficient force for their protection.

Cortes received a similar application from various other towns, which were disposed, could they do so with safety,
to throw off the Mexican yoke. But he was in no situation to comply with their request. He now felt, more sensibly than
ever, the incompetency of his means to his undertaking. “I assure your Majesty,” he writes in his letter to the
emperor, “the greatest uneasiness which I feel after all my labours and fatigues, is from my inability to succour and
support our Indian friends, your Majesty’s loyal vassals.” Far from having a force competent to this, he had scarcely
enough for his own protection. His vigilant enemy had an eye on all his movements, and, should he cripple his strength
by sending away too many detachments, or by employing them at too great a distance, would be prompt to take advantage
of it. His only expeditions, hitherto, had been in the neighbourhood, where the troops, after striking some sudden and
decisive blow, might speedily regain their quarters. The utmost watchfulness was maintained there, and the Spaniards
lived in as constant preparation for an assault, as if their camp was pitched under the walls of Mexico.

On two occasions the general had sallied forth and engaged the enemy in the environs of Tezcuco. At one time a
thousand canoes, filled with Aztecs, crossed the lake to gather in a large crop of Indian corn nearly ripe, on its
borders. Cortes thought it important to secure this for himself. He accordingly marched out and gave battle to the
enemy, drove them from the field, and swept away the rich harvest to the granaries of Tezcuco. Another time a strong
body of Mexicans had established themselves in some neighbouring towns friendly to their interests. Cortes, again
sallying, dislodged them from their quarters, beat them in several skirmishes, and reduced the places to obedience. But
these enterprises demanded all his resources, and left him nothing to spare for his allies. In this exigency, his
fruitful genius suggested an expedient for supplying the deficiency of his means.

Some of the friendly cities without the valley, observing the numerous beacon-fires on the mountains, inferred that
the Mexicans were mustering in great strength, and that the Spaniards must be hard pressed in their new quarters. They
sent messengers to Tezcuco, expressing their apprehension, and offering reinforcements, which the general, when he set
out on his march, had declined. He returned many thanks for the proffered aid; but, while he declined it for himself,
as unnecessary, he indicated in what manner their services might be effectual for the defence of Chalco and the other
places which had invoked his protection. But his Indian allies were in deadly feud with these places, whose inhabitants
had too often fought under the Aztec banner not to have been engaged in repeated wars with the people beyond the
mountains.

Cortes set himself earnestly to reconcile these differences. He told the hostile parties that they should be willing
to forget their mutual wrongs, since they bad entered into new relations. They were now vassals of the same sovereign,
engaged in a common enterprise against a formidable foe who had so long trodden them in the dust. Singly they could do
little, but united they might protect each other’s weakness, and hold their enemy at bay till the Spaniards could come
to their assistance. These arguments finally prevailed; and the politic general had the satisfaction to see the
high-spirited and hostile tribes forego their long-cherished rivalry, and, resigning the pleasures of revenge, so dear
to the barbarian, embrace one another as friends and champions in a common cause. To this wise policy the Spanish
commander owed quite as much of his subsequent successes, as to his arms.

Thus the foundations of the Mexican empire were hourly loosening, as the great vassals around the capital, on whom
it most relied, fell off one after another from their allegiance. The Aztecs, properly so called, formed but a small
part of the population of the valley. This was principally composed of cognate tribes, members of the same great family
of the Nahuatlacs, who had come upon the plateau at nearly the same time. They were mutual rivals, and were reduced one
after another by the more warlike Mexican, who held them in subjection, often by open force, always by fear. Fear was
the great principle of cohesion which bound together the discordant members of the monarchy, and this was now fast
dissolving before the influence of a power more mighty than that of the Aztec. This, it is true, was not the first time
that the conquered races had attempted to recover their independence; but all such attempts had failed for want of
concert. It was reserved for the commanding genius of Cortes to extinguish their old hereditary feuds, and, combining
their scattered energies, to animate them with a common principle of action.

Encouraged by this state of things, the Spanish general thought it a favourable moment to press his negotiations
with the capital. He availed himself of the presence of some noble Mexicans, taken in the late action with Sandoval, to
send another message to their master. It was in substance a repetition of the first with a renewed assurance, that, if
the city would return to its allegiance to the Spanish crown, the authority of Guatemozin should be confirmed, and the
persons and property of his subjects be respected. To this communication no reply was made. The young Indian emperor
had a spirit as dauntless as that of Cortes himself. On his head descended the full effects of that vicious system of
government bequeathed to him by his ancestors. But, as he saw his empire crumbling beneath him, he sought to uphold it
by his own energy and resources. He anticipated the defection of some vassals by establishing garrisons within their
walls. Others he conciliated by exempting them from tributes, or greatly lightening their burdens, or by advancing them
to posts of honour and authority in the state. He showed, at the same time, his implacable animosity towards the
Christians, by commanding that every one taken within his dominions should be sent to the capital, where he was
sacrificed with all the barbarous ceremonies prescribed by the Aztec ritual.

While these occurrences were passing, Cortes received the welcome intelligence, that the brigantines were completed
and waiting to be transported to Tezcuco. He detached a body for the service, consisting of two hundred Spanish foot
and fifteen horse, which he placed under the command of Sandoval. This cavalier had been rising daily in the estimation
both of the general and of the army. Though one of the youngest officers in the service, he possessed a cool head and a
ripe judgment, which fitted him for the most delicate and difficult undertakings. Sandoval was a native Of Medellin,
the birth-place of Cortes himself. He was warmly attached to his commander, and had on all occasions proved himself
worthy of his confidence. He was a man of few words, showing his worth rather by what he did, than what he said. His
honest, soldier-like deportment made him a favourite with the troops, and had its influence even on his enemies. He
unfortunately died in the flower of his age. But he discovered talents and military skill, which, had he lived to later
life, would undoubtedly have placed his name on the roll with those of the greatest captains of his nation.

Sandoval’s route was to lead him by Zoltepec, a city where the massacre of the forty-five Spaniards, already
noticed, had been perpetrated. The cavalier received orders to find out the guilty parties, if possible, and to punish
them for their share in the transaction.

When the Spaniards arrived at the spot, they found that the inhabitants, who had previous notice of their approach,
had all fled. In the deserted temples they discovered abundant traces of the fate of their countrymen; for, besides
their arms and clothing, and the hides of their horses, the heads of several soldiers, prepared in such a way that they
could be well preserved, were found suspended as trophies of the victory. In a neighbouring building, traced with
charcoal on the walls, they found the following inscription in Castilian: “In this place the unfortunate Juan Juste,
with many others of his company, was imprisoned.” This hidalgo was one of the followers of Narvaez, and had come with
him into the country in quest of gold, but had found, instead, an obscure and inglorious death. The eyes of the
soldiers were suffused with tears, as they gazed on the gloomy record, and their bosoms swelled with indignation, as
they thought of the horrible fate of the captives. Fortunately the inhabitants were not then before them. Some few, who
subsequently fell into their hands, were branded as slaves. But the greater part of the population, who threw
themselves, in the most abject manner, on the mercy of the Conquerors, imputing the blame of the affair to the Aztecs,
the Spanish commander spared, from pity, or contempt.

He now resumed his march on Tlascala; but scarcely had he crossed the borders of the republic, when he descried the
flaunting banners of the convoy which transported the brigantines, as it was threading its way through the defiles of
the mountains. Great was his satisfaction at the spectacle, for he had feared a detention of some days at Tlascala,
before the preparations for the march could be completed.

There were thirteen vessels in all, of different sizes. They had been constructed under the direction of the
experienced shipbuilder, Martin Lopez, aided by three of four Spanish carpenters and the friendly natives, some of whom
showed no mean degree of imitative skill. The brigantines, when completed, had been fairly tried on the waters of the
Zahuapan. They were then taken to pieces, and, as Lopez was impatient of delay, the several parts, the timbers,
anchors, iron-work, sails, and cordage were placed on the shoulders of the tamanes, and, under a numerous military
escort, were thus far advanced on the way to Tezcuco. Sandoval dismissed a part of the Indian convoy, as
superfluous.

Twenty thousand warriors he retained, dividing them into two equal bodies for the protection of the tamanes in the
centre. His own little body of Spaniards be distributed in like manner. The Tlascalans in the van marched under the
command of a chief who gloried in the name of Chichemecatl. For some reason Sandoval afterwards changed the order of
march, and placed this division in the rear — an arrangement which gave great umbrage to the doughty warrior that led
it, who asserted his right to the front, the place which he and his ancestors had always occupied, as the post of
danger. He was somewhat appeased by Sandoval’s assurance that it was for that very reason he had been transferred to
the rear, the quarter most likely to be assailed by the enemy. But even then he was greatly dissatisfied, on finding
that the Spanish commander was to march by his side, grudging, it would seem, that any other should share the laurel
with himself.

Slowly and painfully, encumbered with their heavy burden, the troops worked their way over steep eminences, and
rough mountainpasses, presenting, one might suppose in their long line of march, many a vulnerable point to an enemy.
But, although small parties of warriors were seen hovering at times on their flanks and rear, they kept at a respectful
distance, not caring to encounter so formidable a foe. On the fourth day the warlike caravan arrived in safety before
Tezcuco.

Their approach was beheld with joy by Cortes and the soldiers, who hailed it as a signal of a speedy termination of
the war. The general, attended by his officers, all dressed in their richest attire, came out to welcome the convoy. It
extended over a space of two leagues, and so slow was its progress that six hours elapsed before the closing files had
entered the city. The Tlascalan chiefs displayed their wonted bravery of apparel, and the whole array, composed of the
flower of their warriors, made a brilliant appearance. They marched by the sound of atabal and comet, and, as they
traversed the streets of the capital amidst the acclamations of the soldiery, they made the city ring with the shouts
of “Castile and Tlascala, long live our sovereign, the emperor.”

“It was a marvellous thing,” exclaims the Conqueror, in his letters, “that few have seen, or even heard of — this
transportation of thirteen vessels of war on the shoulders of men, for nearly twenty leagues across the mountains!” It
was, indeed, a stupendous achievement, and not easily matched in ancient or modern story; one which only a genius like
that of Cortes could have devised, or a daring spirit like his have so successfully executed. Little did he foresee,
when he ordered the destruction of the fleet which first brought him to the country, and with his usual forecast
commanded the preservation of the iron-work and rigging — little did he foresee the important uses for which they were
to be reserved. So important, that on their preservation may be said to have depended the successful issue of his great
enterprise.

Chapter II 1521

CORTES RECONNOITRES THE CAPITAL— OCCUPIES TACUBA— SKIRMISHES WITH THE ENEMY— EXPEDITION OF SANDOVAL—
ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS

IN the course of three or four days, the Spanish general furnished the Tlascalans with the opportunity so much
coveted, and allowed their boiling spirits to effervesce in active operations. He had, for some time, meditated an
expedition to reconnoitre the capital and its environs, and to chastise, on the way, certain places which had sent him
insulting messages of defiance, and which were particularly active in their hostilities. He disclosed his design to a
few only of his principal officers, from his distrust of the Tezcucans, whom he suspected to be in correspondence with
the enemy.

Early in the spring, he left Tezcuco, at the head of three hundred and fifty Spaniards and the whole strength of his
allies. He took with him Alvarado and Olid, and intrusted the charge of the garrison to Sandoval. Cortes had practical
acquaintance with the incompetence of the first of these cavaliers for so delicate a post, during his short, but
disastrous, rule in Mexico.

But all his precautions had not availed to shroud his designs from the vigilant foe, whose eye was on all his
movements; who seemed even to divine his thoughts, and to be prepared to thwart their execution. He had advanced but a
few leagues, when he was met by a considerable body of Mexicans, drawn up to dispute his progress. A sharp skirmish
took place, in which the enemy were driven from the ground, and the way was left open to the Christians. They held a
circuitous route to the north, and their first point of attack was the insular town of Xaltocan, situated on the
northern extremity of the lake of that name, now called San Christobal. The town was entirely surrounded by water, and
communicated with the main land by means of causeways, in the same manner as the Mexican capital. Cortes, riding at the
head of his cavalry, advanced along the dike, till he was brought to a stand by finding a wide opening in it, through
which the waters poured so as to be altogether impracticable, not only for horse, but for infantry. The lake was
covered with canoes, filled with Aztec warriors, who, anticipating the movement of the Spaniards, had come to the aid
of the city. They now began a furious discharge of stones and arrows on the assailants, while they were themselves
tolerably well protected from the musketry of their enemy by the light bulwarks, with which, for that purpose, they had
fortified their canoes.

The severe volleys of the Mexicans did some injury to the Spaniards and their allies, and began to throw them into
disorder, crowded as they were on the narrow causeway, without the means of advancing, when Cortes ordered a retreat.
This was followed by renewed tempests of missiles, accompanied by taunts and fierce yells of defiance. The battle-cry
of the Aztec, like the war-whoop of the North American Indian, was an appalling note, according to the Conqueror’s own
acknowledgment, in the ears of the Spaniards. At this juncture, the general fortunately obtained information from a
deserter, one of the Mexican allies, of a ford, by which the army might traverse the shallow lake, and penetrate the
place. He instantly detached the greater part of the infantry on the service, posting himself with the remainder, and
with the horse, at the entrance of the passage, to cover the attack and prevent any interruption in the rear.

The soldiers, under the direction of the Indian guide, forded the lake without much difficulty, though in some
places the water came above their girdles. During the passage, they were annoyed by the enemy’s missiles; but when they
had gained the dry level, they took ample revenge, and speedily put all who resisted to the sword. The greater part,
together with the townsmen, made their escape in the boats. The place was now abandoned to pillage. The troops found in
it many women, who had been left to their fate; and these, together with a considerable quantity of cotton stuffs,
gold, and articles of food, fell into the hands of the victors, who, setting fire to the deserted city, returned in
triumph to their comrades.

Continuing his circuitous route, Cortes presented himself successively before three other places, each of which had
been deserted by the inhabitants in anticipation of his arrival. The principal of these, Azcapotzalco, had once been
the capital of an independent state. It was now the great slave-market of the Aztecs, where their unfortunate captives
were brought, and disposed of at public sale. It was also the quarter occupied by the jewellers; and the place whence
the Spaniards obtained the goldsmiths who melted down the rich treasures received from Montezuma. But they found there
only a small supply of the precious metals, or, indeed, of anything else of value, as the people had been careful to
remove their effects. They spared the buildings, however, in consideration of their having met with no resistance.

During the nights, the troops bivouacked in the open fields, maintaining the strictest watch, for the country was
all in arms, and beacons were flaming on every hill-top, while dark masses of the enemy were occasionally descried in
the distance. The Spaniards were now traversing the most opulent region of Anahuac. Cities and villages were scattered
over hill and valley, all giving token of a dense and industrious population. It was the general’s purpose to march at
once on Tacuba, and establish his quarters in that ancient capital for the present. He found a strong force encamped
under its walls, prepared to dispute his entrance. Without waiting for their advance, he rode at full gallop against
them with his little body of horse. The arquebuses and crossbows opened a lively volley on their extended wings, and
the infantry, armed with their swords and copper-headed lances, and supported by the Indian battalions, followed up the
attack of the horse with an alacrity which soon put the enemy to flight. Cortes led his troops without further
opposition into the suburbs of Tacuba, the ancient Tlacopan, where he established himself for the night.

On the following morning, he found the indefatigable Aztecs again under arms, and, on the open ground before the
city, prepared to give him battle. He marched out against them, and, after an action hotly contested, though of no long
duration, again routed them. They fled towards the town, but were driven through the streets at the point of the lance,
and were compelled, together with the inhabitants, to evacuate the place. The city was then delivered over to pillage;
and the Indian allies, not content with plundering the houses of everything portable within them, set them on fire, and
in a short time a quarter of the town — the poorer dwellings, probably, built of light, combustible materials — was in
flames.

Cortes proposed to remain in his present quarters for some days, during which time he established his own residence
in the ancient palace of the lords of Tlacopan. It was a long range of low buildings, like most of the royal residences
in the country, and offered good accommodations for the Spanish forces. During his halt here, there was not a day on
which the army was not engaged in one or more rencontres with the enemy. They terminated almost uniformly in favour of
the Spaniards, though with more or less injury to them and to their allies. One encounter, indeed, had nearly been
attended with more fatal consequences.

The Spanish general, in the heat of pursuit, had allowed himself to be decoyed upon the great causeway — the same
which had once been so fatal to his army. He followed the flying foe, until he had gained the further side of the
nearest bridge, which had been repaired since the disastrous action of the noche triste. When thus far advanced, the
Aztecs, with the rapidity of lightning, turned on him, and he beheld a large reinforcement in their rear, all fresh on
the field, prepared to support their countrymen. At the same time, swarms of boats, unobserved in the eagerness of the
chase, seemed to start up as if by magic, covering the waters around. The Spaniards were now exposed to a perfect
hailstorm of missiles, both from the causeway and the lake; but they stood unmoved amidst the tempest, when Cortes, too
late perceiving his error, gave orders for the retreat. Slowly, and with admirable coolness, his men receded, step by
step, offering a resolute front to the enemy. The Mexicans came on with their usual vociferation, making the shores
echo to their war-cries, and striking at the Spaniards with their long pikes, and with poles, to which the swords taken
from the Christians had been fastened. A cavalier, named Volante, bearing the standard of Cortes, was felled by one of
their weapons, and, tumbling into the lake, was picked up by the Mexican boats. He was a man of a muscular frame, and,
as the enemy were dragging him off, he succeeded in extricating himself from their grasp, and clenching his colours in
his hand, with a desperate effort sprang back upon the causeway. At length, after some hard fighting, in which many of
the Spaniards were wounded, and many of their allies slain, the troops regained the land, where Cortes, with a full
heart, returned thanks to Heaven for what he might well regard as a providential deliverance. It was a salutary lesson;
though he should scarcely have needed one, so soon after the affair of Iztapalapan, to warn him of the wily tactics of
his enemy.

It had been one of Cortes’ principal objects in this expedition to obtain an interview, if possible, with the Aztec
emperor, or with some of the great lords at his court, and to try if some means for an accommodation could not be
found, by which he might avoid the appeal to arms. An occasion for such a parley presented itself, when his forces were
one day confronted with those of the enemy, with a broken bridge interposed between them. Cortes, riding in advance of
his people, intimated by signs his peaceful intent, and that he wished to confer with the Aztecs. They respected the
signal, and, with the aid of his interpreter, he requested, that, if there were any great chief among them, he would
come forward and hold a parley with him. The Mexicans replied, in derision, they were all chiefs, and bade him speak
openly whatever he had to tell them. As the general returned no answer, they asked, why he did not make another visit
to the capital, and tauntingly added, “Perhaps Malinche does not expect to find there another Montezuma, as obedient to
his command as the former.” Some of them complimented the Tlascala